Broken and Twisted
by Love's Martyr
Summary: Cloud is living in Midgar’s orphanage, starving for freedom. Meanwhile, strange things are boiling within ShinRa. Upon Cloud’s escape, can he find the love and care he’s never been given? Can Sephiroth gain the trust of a broken soul? SephCloud Yaoi
1. Longing

REVIEW: Cloud is living in Midgar's orphanage, starving for freedom. Meanwhile, ShinRa is on the verge of a second war with Wutai. Upon Cloud's escape, can he make a place for himself in a world teetering on the edge of destruction? Can he find the love and care he's never been given? Can Sephiroth gain the trust of a broken soul?

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Final Fantasy, or any of its sexy characters.

WARNINGS: Suicidal Themes, NONCON, Violence, Language, MAJOR Angst.

"Broken and Twisted"

By Love's Martyr

**Chapter One**

**Longing**

A thunderstorm raged maliciously above Midgar's orphanage, located in Sector Six. Regardless of the late hour, a pair of stunningly blue eyes, sparkling with silent tears, gazed with desire at the soggy streets below from a third floor window.

Cloud often stayed awake past regulation bedtime, and, just like tonight, he'd stare fixedly out the window, wondering what life on the other side of the walls and fences of the orphanage could offer him. He sat with his thighs against his stomach, and his hands on his knees. Resting his head lightly on his fingers, he'd long been grateful that the windows of the orphanage dorm were merely fifteen inches from the floor, allowing him to see the outside world more easily from a comfortable position.

By age fifteen, he had been in the orphanage for nine long years, and had only been outside the walls twice. Once, for a short, and to someone who'd never set foot on a street before, fascinating field trip. It was only a quick venture to the docks, where the instructors allowed their charges to play along the banks. Cloud still had two seashells from that day. They weren't much, but Cloud treasured them. They were his only souvenirs from the outside world. The second time he'd been outside the confines of the orphanage was his vain attempt to run away. He'd climbed the eighteen-foot fence around the playground's perimeter and injured his foot upon landing on the other side. He'd managed a few limps toward his freedom, then collapsed from the pain.

When he awoke to find himself back in this hell hole, he considered taking a page from his mother's book, and ending his own life then and there himself, but didn't. No, not like that, he would be strong. He'd vowed to himself at a young age, after his first emotional crisis, that he'd never take his mother's way out. He'd prove to the world that he could face whatever it threw at him and use it as a shield to make himself stronger. He would be the victor in the end.

Happiness, to Cloud, was as imaginary as a unicorn, a fire breathing dragon from the days of yore, or any other such fantasy.

_I suppose I was happy . . . well . . . happier than I am now . . . when I lived with Mother . . . at least . . . at least I had my freedom . . . but, who . . . who cares . . . if I can't even remember . . . _

His heavy sigh was drowned out by the rumble of thunder. Even then, before his mother chose to take her own life with a dagger, even then, he hadn't been happy. What memories he did have of his life nine years ago, they were all of pain, of sadness.

His father had abandoned his mother as soon as she'd told him of her pregnancy, leaving her alone and incurably depressed. She mourned every day until her death, clinging to the prayer less hope that, one day, he would return to her, ready to be a father, but he never would, and never did. She must have realized that her futile dreams would never come to pass. She must have realized that true love would be hers to treasure nevermore.

She did it right in front of Cloud, six years old at the time. He found her kneeling on the floor of their one room house when he returned from school, cradling a short dagger in her hands like a child. He recalled feeling jealous that she'd never done such for him. He still remembered her tears, her sigh of relief as death took her pain away. She smiled like an angel had come to rescue her, when, really, it was the grim reaper himself. She'd called him, begged him to take her to his realm. She'd pleaded for him to become her only eternal lover. Most of all, Cloud remembered the blood. He remembered how the thick crimson liquid had welled up and spilled from her throat. He hadn't cried, didn't even feel great sadness. Sure, he felt sympathetic toward his mother's plight, anyone would, but all his life, she'd never truly cared for him like a real mother should. She'd always looking past him with a smoggy hue in her once bright blue eyes, never at him. She had never loved him. No one ever had.

Love, like happiness, was just an illusory fantasy, something unreal, something he could never feel, something he could never deserve. His mother merely provided him with the essentials. The minimal of basic things he needed to live. In his mind, the memory of her death had marked the day of his own death as well, had marked the beginning of his miserable freedom less imprisonment; it marked the beginning of his slow, painful torture. Not physical torture, he could live with the everyday pains of his body. They were tolerable, but the aches of his heart, . . . they were something else entirely.

He'd been brought up taught that he was nothing. His mother had always told him so. He never stopped to question why she treated him so. He'd grown used to it over the years. Now that he looked back on his past, he realized she hated him because his father had left her as an effect of his birth.

Considering the fact that Nibelhiem, his hometown, was too small to support an orphanage and none of the locals would take him because they all considered him a 'demon of a child' simply because he hadn't shed a single tear upon his own mother's death, he was shipped here, to Midgar. No one had cared what happened to him from then on, not that anyone ever had to begin with. As long as he was gone, away from their ignorant eyes, the world could just pretend he didn't exist. They could all pretend they'd never seen his suffering and go on with their precious lives.

He, like his mother, hoped, dreamed, that someday he would get what he so graciously longed for, his freedom. He knew, that upon his eighteenth birthday, he'd be thrown out of the orphanage, legally an adult, into the world outside, where he so desperately wished to be, but still, the thought frightened him. His inner voice, the one that usually contradicted his hopes, told him it would be no different besides that fact that he'd have to feed himself, fend for himself, but it was worth it, so much better than rotting away here, wasting his life. He'd rather die on the outside than grow up not knowing anything else, and, so fare, the latter looked to be his future. Three more years. He'd already thrown away his childhood, and he wouldn't let his adolescence suffer the same fate. He would have his freedom. Maybe, he'd even have the chance to find someone who'd care, someone to love.

_No one will ever love you. You're too scarred, too broken. You don't own a damn thing. Hell, not even the clothes on your back belong to you. You're not even good-looking. You're just plain, simple, poor, Cloud Strife. That contradicting inner voice again. In a way, it was right._

None of the adopting families chose Cloud because they all wanted a happy child, not one whose mentality had been cut so deeply, had been shaped and formed like clay by those around him into something grotesque, something seemingly incapable of feeling. He'd failed time and time again to impress a family; to win a couple's hearts; to be rescued from this moshe pit of scum. Each time he'd failed he felt further alienated. The wounds cut deeper, they festered, and the scars grew thicker. Now he was too old to even think of adoption. Most couples wanted small children, happy, young children, not him, never the outcast.

The few times he'd actually seem himself in a mirror, which were rare in such a poor orphanage, he'd noticed he wasn't even good looking. He wasn't ugly. His spiky blond hair and blue eyes were beautiful, but he was painfully unhealthy. Due to nine years of malnutrition, his body was small, lanky, and thin, too thin. You couldn't see his ribs, but he was still growing, and that was bound to change soon. The orphanage never let him eat his fill, never. This also caused many other problems. His hair always had a limp look to it, always seemed so dull, so lifeless. His skin always seemed sickly pale, even though he physically felt fine, or maybe he was sick, had always been sick. Had been so for so long he'd forgotten what health felt like and had grown used to the feeling. No, he wasn't ugly, he'd be pretty if he were healthy. His hair would bounce, light and fluffy, and his skin would glow. Maybe he'd actually grow. (Yes, he was short for his age, 5'3.) Yes, he could be pretty, apparently no one had thought about him long enough to notice . . . except for one person, whose affection was unwanted, and came only from deprivation and lust.

At age twelve he'd been playing by himself at the fare end of the orphanage's pathetic excuse of a playground when he was confronted by an older, much larger boy who was fourteen then, but was now seventeen and would be released from the facility's custody in less than four months.

After making sure the instructors couldn't see, the older boy, Matthew Phillips, wrestled Cloud around the corner of the building, where no one could see them, and drew a makeshift blade made from a spoon that had been sharpened somehow until it bore a killing edge. Dull maybe, but it would suffice. He pressed it to Cloud's throat. Cloud gasped, leaning heavily against the building. He still remembered Matthew's exact words.

"Scream, make any sound at all, and I'll slit your pretty little throat. No one will miss you"

Cloud had known Matthew wasn't bluffing, orphans 'mysteriously' died often, so he didn't fight. Not when he was forced to his knees, not when Matthew unzipped his own pants and produced his hard cock, pre-cum already glimmering at the tip.

"Suck it bitch."

Matthew pressed the blade further into his throat, not drawing blood, but painfully close, just to add to his already intimidating appearance.

Cloud looked up to Matthew's dark brown eyes pleadingly, to his raven hair, anywhere but the swollen cock in his face, aching for his touch. Even at twelve he knew what Matthew wanted, he'd seen it happen to other boys too many times before not to know, but he never once considered being forced into this type of activity himself. He never thought it could happen to him, but was shockingly, dead wrong. He remembered his thoughts.

_I don't want this . . . I'm scared. Maybe . . . death is better . . ._

_No, you won't let him kill you . . . you swore to yourself that you'd never give up on life, no matter what sick prank it throws at you. Just give him what he wants . . . then . . . it'll be all over . . . _

Cloud lowered his gaze to the cock in his face, calming himself for the task.

Matthew lost what little patience he had, and forced down the tip of the spoon-blade even harder, this time breaking the skin. Cloud felt warmth at his neck, not deep enough though, not enough blood to kill him, only a warning.

"I'm growing gray here . . . "

Matthew's hand palmed the back of Cloud's head and forced him forward. Cloud stubbornly turned his face away, still not ready. He didn't think he ever would be.

"Wait," he pleaded, ". . . just . . . wait . . . I will . . . please, just wait."

"Wait?" Matthew snapped. A moment of silence followed as, presumably, Matthew felt some sympathy for Cloud, but his sexual urges pushed him onward. He sighed. "You've got until I count to ten. One . . . "

Cloud swallowed hard and further examined the cock.

_Just do it . . . there's no reason to drag this out . . . I could wait until someone finds us, but then . . . he'll just try again tomorrow . . . with more force . . . _

When Matthew reached eight, Cloud tentatively licked the pre-cum dribbling from the tip, loathing himself for it. A salty taste brushed over his tongue. Matthew clenched his hand on Cloud's head in anticipation.

Cloud collected himself and took the pulsing head into his mouth, pressing his tongue beneath it experimentally. He slid downward, stroking the under shaft strongly with his tongue. He'd thought of biting, but he remembered the blade at his neck, and changed his mind. He would have to do a good job of this in fears that Matthew would cut him anyways if he performed prroly. He was proud of himself for not crumpling to tears as he felt like doing. He was glad Matthew didn't have the pleasure of watching him break down.

The dark-headed boy groaned as Cloud went further down to the hilt. Struggling not to choke, the blond backed off a little. Composing himself, he went back down, but his throat hadn't had time to recover when Matthew's hand forced him back down roughly. His throat spasmed uncontrollably until Cloud was sure he would choke.

"Ha . . . new at this then." Was all that Matthew had to say, still not allowing Cloud to pull back, even though the blond did try.

Finally, he did manage to calm his muscles down. He felt even more like crying now. He felt like rolling over and taking the last breath he ever would.

Cradling the head of Matthew's cock on the back of his tongue, he pressed upward in a caressing motion, prying a moan from his molester. In a bid to end his humiliation sooner, Cloud lapped out his tongue to massage the sack. This won him his goal. Matthew dropped the blade as he cried out, and his free hand joined the other behind Cloud's head, gripping handfuls of blond spikes and pressing his face into the older boy's hips. This time, the salty flavor burst into Cloud's mouth with a surprising heat. Matthew continued to hold him there. Cloud almost vomited as he was obligated to either swallow the mess or let it sit on his tongue. He reluctantly chose the former.

Breathing erratically, Matthew released Cloud and began to zip his pants.

"You're good. We'll be doing this again bitch."

Indeed they did, Cloud unwilling every time. By the present, Cloud had been subjected to Matthew's libido at least twenty times over the span of three years, and had grown shamefully good at it, now able to bring Matthew to orgasm in less than a minute. Personally, Cloud was glad that the older boy would be gone soon, but he had no doubt that he'd be non-consentually forced to do it again as a parting gift.

Cloud, coming back to the present, shook away the hurtful memories.

_My life sucks . . . literally . . . _

He looked over to his bed, a cheap uncomfortable mattress slapped onto a cheaply made, creaky, metal frame. Conveniently the closest one to the window. Matthew slept on the other side of the room, eight rows away, a stroke of luck Cloud was thankful for. With a heavy sigh, he wiped away what was left of his tears and crept under his blankets, wincing when his bed groaned loudly from his weight. Luckily the creaks woke no one. His mind being too tired to think any more tonight, Cloud slipped into a pleasant dream about a forest he'd never been to, where he lay in flowers he'd never seen, and listened to the singing of birds he'd never before heard, a simple dream maybe, but to Cloud paradise.

**88888888**

Sephiroth woke earlier than his usual schedule that morning. He'd also gone to bed earlier than usual the night before, so the slight alterations to his internal clock made sense.

Following the monotony of his morning routine, he walked to the kitchen of his small apartment, still in his navy blue boxers, and started a pot of coffee. Then, as he did every morning, he went to shower.

With one swift movement, his boxers pooled to the floor, exposing strong lithe thighs and perfectly carved buttocks. As he waited for the water to warm, he decided to relieve himself. By the time he was finished, the water had heated to a steaming temperature, just the way he liked it. Not wanting his coffee to be bitter, he quickly shampooed his waterfall of white silk, quite a challenging aspect seeing there was so much of it, and lightly conditioned it, even more difficult than shampooing. He then slid a soapy washcloth over his body in haste.

He stepped out and toweled himself dry, wrapping his hair in the towel so it wouldn't drip and make the rest of his body wet again.

Still naked, he sped into the kitchen to turn off his coffee . . . only one problem . . . it was already off, and a good portion of it was notably missing.

"You make coffee in the nude? Make it taste better or something? I can't imagine it'd feel too good if you accidentally spilled it . . . "

Sephiroth wheeled around, yanking the towel from his hair to his waist to cover himself. He knew that voice, but still didn't want his friend to see him in all his naked glory.

Zack, being his only trusted friend, had a key to Sephiroth's apartment, in case ShinRa's new general dropped by while Sephiroth was gone. Yes, ShinRa's new general.

Sephiroth had retired early two years ago at age twenty-six. He had enough money to live off of luxuriously for the rest of his life, so, why not? Sephiroth was, in fact, a millionaire, though by looking at his apartment and lifestyle, one would never suspect. Zack, being his second-in-command for three years and having adequate sword skills, received the promotion the day Sephiroth left, with the help of a few well-placed words of recomendation.

Of course, Sephiroth got bored, and often he'd drop by ShinRa unannounced for a little entertainment: sparring, to visit Zack, or to watch recruits in training. Sometimes, when he felt the old itch, he'd accompany Zack on an assignment, usually giving him the chance to fight without holding himself back, as he usually did in sparring in fear of harming another SOLDIER.

"You know Seph, you almost let your coffee hard-boil . . . good thing I came in, or. . . . " Zack gestured to Sephiroth's nudity, ". . . maybe not . . . Go put some cloths on before you blind someone," he joked.

"Very funny . . . " Sephiroth tightened the towel around his waist, potentially avoiding one of Zack's usually sexually inclined pranks, like swiping the towel away as he passed, and went to dress.

Wearing everything except his leather coat and shoulder armor, which he'd replaced with a white button-up shirt, Sephiroth brushed the tangles from his hair, and blew it dry, a daunting task. He emerged from his bathroom some long moments later to find Zack waiting patiently on his couch with a half-eaten turkey sandwich in his hand.

"You come just to raid my fridge, or is there another reason?" Sephiroth asked, bemused.

"What? A guy can't live on ShinRa surprise all his life. That's why you quit, isn't it? The slop they try to pass as food." His dark-haired friend took a bite of the huge meal he was attempting to pass off as a sandwitch. Sephiroth was obliged to wait for the man to chew and swallow. "No, I didn't come here originally with the intentions of cleaning out your fridge. No real reason really. Just thought I hadn't seen you in a while, and, well, here I am."

Zack had worn his usual uniform . . . Sephiroth hated that black sleeveless . . . it gave him ideas, and he'd discovered the hard way that his friend was straight. Thankfully, Zack, being as loyal a friend as he was, forgave him for his advances. To Sephiroth, he didn't deserve such a luxury, seeing as he still thought of his unavoidably heterosexual friend in that manner, but he knew his boundaries and would keep his distance for the sake of their brotherly friendship.

Sephiroth lowered himself with unintentional grace onto the other side of the couch, slouching back and loosely crossing his legs in a comfortable position, waiting. He knew his spiky brunette friend had come for a reason, but decided he wouldn't press the matter. He'd wait until Zack had found the correct time to bring up, whatever the issue, himself.

"So . . . how've you been?" he inquired. "Has anything happened back at ShinRa I should know about?"

"Besides the fact that we're on the verge of war with Wutai, again, no . . . "

"War?! I didn't think I'd missed that much. Care to fill me in?"

"Don't feel bad. ShinRa isn't too keen on relaying information on this subject. This is what I've been told, but I don't believe it. They're pissed because one of Hojo's old mako reactors are apparently leaking into the ocean, therefore into the rivers, ergo, into their water supply . . . They say they can't filter it out, and that the mako is killing their crops, and their people are dying from mako poisoning. There's nothing we can do about it. I mean, come on, the damage is done. What do they want us to do? Purify the entire fucking ocean? Those reactors aren't even, technically, part of ShinRa any more. Godo, their leader, you probably already know he's an irrational bastard, wants to strike us down in an act of revenge. Or. . . . like I said, that's what I've been told, but I don't believe it."

"Godo may not be the most rational person alive, but he's not stupid. From what I know of him, it sounds as if you're speaking of a completely different person. I schemed and plotted against him for years during Wutai War One, and it wasn't a walk in the park. But, if what you say is true, it would seem we've already won this so called war before it's begun . . . If their people are dying, they'll have fewer soldiers, and if their crops are failing because of tainted water, the rest will starve themselves out . . . They think they can survive those conditions, and us?"

"No, I don't believe they'll last long if what they claim about their poisoned water supply is true. In my opinion, they're just making up an excuse. I don't want to go to war over something so meaningless, but, if they strike first . . . they give us no choice . . . I don't know what Godo is thinking . . . I believe he just wants a reason to strike at us. We triple checked all of the reactors, and haven't found any damage at all, much less a leak." Zack sighed.

"Don't worry," Sephiroth felt concern for his friend, Zack had been to war with Wutai before, but not as a general. "I promise, if we . . . if you have to go to the front lines, I'll come out of retirement for your sake." Sephiroth placed a reassuring hand on Zack's shoulder. "This time, you'll be the general."

"I . . . thanks . . . you're such a good friend, Seph. Actually . . . there is a reason I'm here. War is a high probability, judging by what the intelligence agency has said. I'm being sent to Wutai on an assignment. I'm supposed to go alone, but . . . "

". . . you want me to accompany you . . . " Sephiroth finished for him.

"If you don't mind . . . " Zack looked into the white-haired man's impossibly green eyes hopefully, and found he couldn't hold his battle hardened comrade's gaze. God, Sephiroth was so intimidating, even as a friend. Zack knew he had no reason to be intimidated by him, Sephiroth would never harm him intentionally, even if he was all too capable, but he didn't trust Seph for no reason. He had grown more comfortable in Sephiroth'd prescence than most people. His thoughts wandered to a memory of when a young cadet, fresh into the company, had wet himself simply because Sephiroth had entered the same room.

Sephiroth removed his hand from Zack's shoulder, bringing the dark-haired man's thoughts back to the present.

"If I don't mind? Zack, I've been bored out of my whits lately . . . I was hoping you'd invite me anywhere. What is our mission, and when do we leave?"

Zack hadn't expected an answer like that, judging by the blank look on his face.

"Well, I'm supposed to spy on them basically. I'm not the only one who has suspicions as to why Wutai is so eager to attack. We have to watch for unusual behavior, and find evidence incriminating them of other potential motives. There has to be more behind their anger than mako polluted water and dying crops . . . They could've just asked to open trade with us for food, a peaceful solution, but no, they want to attack."

"I see. Wouldn't something like that usually be a job for a Turk?"

"President ShinRa didn't elaborate on the situation, but apparently all of the Turks are off on missions of their own."

"All of them?"

Zack only shrugged.

Sephiroth nodded dismally. "ShinRa's keeping their own general in the dark . . . something's happening."

"You're right. I've been thinking the same thing. But what I wonder? What would ShinRa want to hide from their own military?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. The mission?"

"Oh, right. We leave August seventh, in five days. Uh, you meet me in my office then, we'll have to travel by chocobo to stay out of sight. I mean, come on, we can't exactly show up in one of ShinRa's blatantly obvious vehicles of transportation. Do they have to put big crimson diamonds on everything they make? I'm surprised they don't force SOLDIERS to get fucking big red tattoos."

Sephiroth chuckled at his friend's joke, glad he'd soon be leaving for what he'd consider a vacation.

Then, there was always that little voice in the back of his mind. What information was ShinRa holding back from Zack, their own general? He had a bad feeling about this assignment. An even darker cloud loomed over his mind every time he thought of events to come. What did ShinRa's secrecy mean? For Zack? For himself? Would he have to come out of his uneventful, yet comfortable retirement?

**88888888**

Cloud sat at the long table in the kitchens of the orphanage, slowly stirring his cold cream of wheat. He had no appetite. Tomorrow was Matthew's eighteenth birthday. He knew because the dark-haired teenager had reminded him a few days ago, winking as he'd said, "See you then." Cloud knew all too well what that meant. His suspicions about a 'goodbye present' were correct, and he didn't look forward to it, knowing it would come today.

Cloud's nerves were edgy the entire day as he tried his best to stay around other people, tried not to find himself alone, vulnerable to Matthew. He survived their hours outside by staying with a red headed boy named Arlex, a fairly burly sixteen year old who, like himself, never spoke much, so Cloud concluded he might not mind a little company as long as he was quiet and stayed out of his way. Cloud cautiously followed him around the entire time they were forced to remain outside in the sweltering heat of Midgar's evening sun, surrounded by depressing chain link fencing of course.

Cloud couldn't help but wonder how someone could keep such muscle on their body with the small amounts of food the orphanage allowed each occupant. He decided it was because Arlex had been an orphan for only a few months, his body hadn't yet begun to show the effects of poor nutrition. Cloud decided he'd like to have big muscles someday. Well, not quite that big, just enough to show he had them. His body, as it was now, couldn't produce much strength. Hell, his ribs were becoming visible when he removed his shirt, maybe he should've eaten his cold wheat this morning, churning stomach or not. That reminded him of the reason he felt so ill, and he nervously glanced around for any sign of Matthew. Surprisingly . . . he didn't see him anywhere. Maybe his plan of hanging around Arlex for protection was working. He didn't even know the guy, and if Matthew tried something, Arlex would probably leave him to his own devices, but Matthew didn't know that.

"How long have you been here?"

A sharp tenor of a voice startled him somewhat. Arlex had spoken, perhaps for the first time he'd been at the orphanage. Recovering from the shock that anyone would actually want to make conversation with him, Cloud answered. "Nine years . . . "

"No wonder . . . " the red head's eyes raked over Cloud's thin body quickly, then rested on his face once again. "I've been here three months, and I'm already losing weight."

Cloud's cheeks reddened in shame, realizing his health problems had become visible through his clothing. He stared at his own feet as if they had suddenly detached themselves from his ankles to do somersaults.

Arlex turned away, realizing he'd stricken a chord somewhere in the blond. Cloud concluded that Arlex was shy, and possibly one of those submissive types of people, the type that didn't want to say or do anything in fear of angering others. Cloud discerned that he himself could be such often. Arlex was likely punishing himself now for making such an outward statement, thinking he'd angered Cloud.

"How'd you end up here? I mean, if you don't mind my asking . . . how did you become an orphan?"

The only answer Cloud received was, "My parents died . . . "

_Well DUH! I kind of knew that much. How thick are you? _Cloud didn't voice his thoughts aloud.

". . . My parents died . . . when I was ten, killed by monsters. I wasn't with them at the time, so . . . I had to wait weeks before I knew what had happened."

"Ten? You've been to another orphanage then?"

"No, I lived on the streets . . . with some friends . . . we got captured by the Midgar Police Department, they said I'd be better off in a place like this. Now, here I am . . . "

"Where are your friends?"

"Different facilities I think. I don't know why they weren't sent here with me . . . I guess the government thought it'd be fun to separate us . . . after all we went through together . . . surviving . . . relying on one another . . . "

"I know it probably won't help, but . . . I'm sorry." Cloud tried to cheer up his wary companion. "Maybe, they escaped . . . that could be why they're not here with you."

"You think? Maybe they're waiting for me to return, no?" The red head sighed heavily, closing his lavender eyes in frustration. "I'll never escape this place . . . Well, yeah, I might get out, but I'd be captured again before I could find them." Arlex looked Cloud over again, with a pained expression on his face. "You . . . you can have my supper if . . . you want it . . . you look like . . . you . . . need it more than I do."

Cloud gaped open-mouthed at him, astonished that someone actually cared about his well-being.

"I . . . I don't . . . "

Arlex cut him short.

"No, I haven't been eating it anyway . . . too worried about how my friends are fairing. Besides, look at yourself, you look like death warmed over. So thin and all . . . "

Cloud still hadn't recovered from the fact that another person could actually care . . . he'd only just really met Arlex. The emotions welled up inside him. He noticed Arlex wouldn't look him straight in the eye, but dismissed it as acquired timidness.

_I will not cry dammit!_

The red head had a point though. How long can the human body last on such rations as he had? How much thinner could he get before he collapsed? How much longer could his body hold out before he wasted away to nothing?

"I . . . thanks."

His right hand subconsciously snaked itself to the back of his head in a gesture of nervousness.

They talked until the instructors called them back inside. Cloud telling Arlex about his past, his mother. Arlex describing to Cloud, what street life was like, how everyone lived in small packs, how those gangs sometimes fought over territory, money, food. Arlex himself had been in many of these brawls. The red head showing Cloud a jagged scar on his shoulder where he'd been slashed with a broken soda bottle. The wound had almost killed him from infection, considering there was no real medical help to be had when one lived on the streets.

They ate dinner together at the end of the long table. Or, for better description, Cloud ate his potato soup, then Arlex forced him to eat his as well, saying he needed it. With reluctance, Cloud gave in and complied. He still couldn't believe someone was actually talking to him, and he'd never eaten with someone before . . . he usually sat alone. Arlex was telling Cloud about each of his street friends, three of them, Samson, Miah, and Celeste. They'd all been like siblings to Arlex, and Cloud could tell the older teen missed them immensely.

"You'll meet them again someday. I tried running away once . . . I broke my ankle as soon as I scaled the fence."

"You climbed the fence?" An incredulous expression had found its way onto Arlex's freckled face.

Cloud nodded. "You know, since neither of us can escape alone, maybe . . . if we work together . . . " a meek expression of hope crossed his face.

"...if we work together we can do it."Arlex finished for him.

A long moment of silence passed as they both pondered this separately. To Cloud, this was a dream come true, a wonderful day. He'd made his first friend, and Arlex could possibly help him escape this cesspool. He was still alien to the concept of relying on others for companionship, had always thought he didn't need anyone else. He could take care of himself, but Arlex had spent, what, two hours with him, and he was already feeling hungry for more friendship, but inwardly told himself he couldn't get this lucky twice in one day. Likely as things were, he and Arlex would use each other to escape, then go their separate ways, Cloud being left to fend for himself on unfamiliar streets.

"You can meet my friends, if they're still out there, they'll be at our hangout, all we have to do is get there, and you can stay with us, be a part of our gang. I'm sure they'll accept you, . . . after all, we are a small group."

Cloud was stunned at this revelation. Arlex wanted him to stay with him and his friends? Cloud began to wonder if he were dreaming. There's no way so many good things could happen in one day. If this wasn't a dream, something bad was bound to happen sooner or later. This was naught but the silence before the storm. Maybe Arlex wasn't as nice or as ignorant as he put off to be. Cloud's past experiences had taught him to trust no one, rely on no one, and befriend no one but oneself. Those were the basic rules he'd lived by all his life. If he didn't trust anyone, they couldn't betray him, couldn't cause more harm to his mental persona.

Maybe Arlex was playing him a fool. Throwing out bait: friendship, food, the hope of freedom, for something in return, but what? Images of Matthew flashed through his mind, followed by images of himself kneeling before the dark-haired boy's groin, bobbing, giving pleasure against his own will. In his mind's eyes, Matthew began to shift. He grew taller, shoulders broadened, hair lengthened and changed from black to auburn. Fear and alertness marred his consciousness. His hands began to shake. Arlex was no friend, but an enemy who wanted the same thing as Matthew.

Speaking of Matthew, where was he? Cloud glanced around quickly, making his change in demeanor obvious to Arlex.

"Is something wrong?"

Cloud couldn't hear the red head. He spotted Matthew on the far end of the table, watching them both intently with an unnerving smirk on his face. Arlex, he and Matthew had planned something somehow.

Without thinking, Cloud leapt from his the table and made a wild dash to the sleep hall. He didn't turn around to see if anyone pursued him. As soon as he was behind a closed door, he'd be in less of a panic. He sped to his bed and slammed his fists into the creaky mattress out of anger. How could he have been so stupid? So . . . so trustful? Had the many long years of vigilant self discipline, years of suffering at the hands of others taught him nothing? He was utterly disappointed in himself. Himself, his only reliable ally, had let him down.

He buried his face in the thin pillow. Unable to suppress his emotions like he'd always done before. Hot tears dampened his cheeks. He'd let himself down twice in one day, first, by trusting, second by outwardly displaying his own weakness. He hated himself for allowing those tears passage, allowing his weakness to show. He hated himself for who he was, what he was. He wanted to be anywhere but in this pathetic worthless body, anywhere but here. Even if that meant eternal unconsciousness, death. He, like his mother, would call the grim reaper to his side, beg him graciously for release.

No, he could not, would not, let himself down thrice in such a short time period. He remembered his vow and clung to it. He would not be that weak, never. Eventually, when the pain of his own failure to himself had eased a little, he'd turn the situation around and use it as a shield to protect himself in the future. He'd learn from this mistake. Never again would he allow himself to trust another individual. He learned that, every time he reached out to someone, they pushed him away, thoroughly crushing his heart. No one wanted to befriend him. They all wanted to use him for money, entertainment, or sex.

As Cloud expected, not one person disturbed him as he wept into his pillow. The fact that nobody cared enough to comfort him in his moment of need didn't surprise him, but it intensified his self loathing. Oh, how he longed for a shoulder to cry on, wished someone would hold him close at least once in his life. But no, he couldn't expect someone to touch something so detestable as himself. He couldn't force such a burden on any soul. He simply lay there, wallowing in self hatred, until his breathing returned to a normal pace, and his body ran out of tears. Red-eyed and exhausted, he finally took it upon himself to seek shelter beneath the little warmth his thin blanket offered, and warily drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

**88888888**

Sephiroth stood stoically on the fourth floor balcony of the Blue Parrot, a widely renowned club. Zack had goaded him into coming as a celebration of their return from their mission, and he now regretted it greatly. He was undeniably bored. Sure, it was likely better than sitting in his apartment all night, but not by much.

Their mission had gone as smooth as work could behind enemy lines. Unfortunately, they hadn't been given the chance to thoroughly brown nose for information. They were attacked two days in by six cloaked swordsmen, all of which had inhuman speed and strength. They were almost as powerful as Sephiroth himself. Strength of that degree could only be attained through SOLDIER means, such as mako injections. One small issue there, Wutai didn't produce mako, only ShinRa did, thanks to their esteemed scientists, Professors Gast and Hojo. Strange indeed.

_How did they know we were there?_

Good question. They'd taken every precaution to remain hidden, camping out in the outskirts of Wutai's political capitol, where all Wutanese dealings of secrecy and political importance took place. No one had known of their presence, as far as he knew.

_Those warriors didn't fight like Wutanese mercenaries either._

He'd let the issue drop for now. So much thinking on his first day back was giving him a headache.

He binged down yet another beer, his eighteenth one in less than an hour. Nope, still nothing. Being in SOLDIER had both its upsides, and its downsides. On the optimistic hand, he had inhuman speed, strength and agility, not to mention, the heightened senses and ability to heal almost five times faster than an average human. On the pessimistic hand, he couldn't get drunk or high no matter how damn hard he tried. He usually gave up after beer ten, but he'd tried even harder tonight, and still failed.

Not wanting to be the only sober person left in the building, he'd decided to find a secluded corner alone, where he could sit and glare menacingly at those who could get drunk, and were doing said activity all too well for their own good. Zack was in SOLDIER and had just as much mako in his veins as Sephiroth, he couldn't technically get drunk, but sure as hell could act like it. Sephiroth shook his head as he watched Zack attempt to break dance with a purple lamp shade on his head, and a pool stick down his left pant leg . . .

_. . . sad._

Sephiroth had to admit, Zack was doing a decent job for someone who'd been wounded less than twenty-four hours before. While Zack was quite a force to dealt with, he had trouble holding his own against those six cloaked enigmas. Sephiroth fought them off, killing two, and fled with a bleeding Zack in his arms. The dark-haired man had suffered a blade through his chest, piercing one lung. They hadn't brought any cure materia. They didn't think they'd need any. It was then that Sephiroth made a mental note to always keep one on hand, no matter how simple the assignment. Sephiroth had immediately holstered up his golden chocobo and returned to ShinRa. His first visit, the infirmary, where he'd gently lain Zack, barely breathing on a hospital bed and let the doctors have their way with him. SOLDIER or no, Zack wasn't immortal. He stayed by his side, unrelenting in his watchfulness, not leaving even to eat until he awoke. Zack was his only friend. If only he knew how much the emerald-eyed man cared.

Zack had been awake no longer than fifteen minutes when he'd pleaded with Sephiroth to come 'party' with him. That was Zack for you, always cheerful and upbeat. Now, here he was, watching his newly revived friend pretend to be drunk. Zack was now up on the bar, singing "Stand by Your Man" with a half-full bottle of vodka in one hand, acting as a microphone, and an empty daiquiri in the other.

Sephiroth was fine in his dark corner for about ten minutes, but all good things must come to an end. He was unsuspectedly bombarded by four drunken prostitutes, who made it all too obvious that they'd offer him their 'services' free of charge. That would have been well and all, except for one tiny, minor, unimportant detail. HE DIDN'T LIKE FEMALES! At that, he'd stood and pushed them all away, storming for the nearest escape, which just happened to this balcony on which he now stood, peering angrily at the stars.

_God, I need a boyfriend . . . _

He thought back to the prostitutes who had all but raped him and shuddered.

_. . . badly . . . _

True, Sephiroth did go on a lot of dates, but they all wanted him for his title, his money. Yes, money. While he lived in his large apartment instead of a home, he did so only to mask his income because he didn't want a lover who wanted him only for his possessions, but that bright idea was crushed by the fact that almost every being on Gaia knew who he was. If it wasn't money they were after, it was his body. He'd been with far too many men who wanted nothing more than to sleep with him only for the pleasure and bragging rights and never see him again. Sephiroth avoided most of these mishaps, not wanting to feel the pain of being used as a tool for someone else's enjoyment. Sephiroth longed for someone who didn't know him as The Great General Sephiroth, if such a soul even existed, which he doubted.

If he could find such a being, a homosexual male who didn't know his title, and would love him for who he was, the _man_ Sephiroth, not the _general_ Sephiroth, he would undoubtedly love him just as much, if not more.

_There is no such person in existence. ShinRa advertises too fucking much . . . I suppose I could always travel to some pathetic deserted little colony of half-starved pygmy natives in some distant rain forest and choose a lover from their pitiful existence . . . hmpf . . . yeah right, I think I'd rather remain celibate for all eternity than resort to that._

Sephiroth allowed his gaze to wonder onto the streets almost fifty feet below. They were empty, save for a few late night stragglers, likely drunk to the point that they no longer obtained the aptness to find their own homes. Across the street, there was a dingy brick structure one floor shorter than the Blue Parrot with barred windows and a fenced in area diagonally across from where Sephiroth leaned on the balcony rails. The Midgar orphanage.

Sephiroth wondered at it for several minutes, then was abruptly roused from his musings by the tingle of a cold wetness on the back of his neck. He looked to the sky where black clouds loomed overhead, ready to hemorrhage down upon the mostly empty streets of Midgar. Sephiroth pitied any who hadn't found shelter yet, judging by the energy in the atmosphere that only highly trained SOLDIERS could feel, an electric storm of mighty magnitude was preparing to unleash its wrath.

The winds picked up, blowing chillingly against Sephiroth's side. He stood from his perch on the railing and pulled his coat tighter around himself, anticipating more gusts to come. The rain drops gradually increased in intervals, falling faster, and heavier each second. Sephiroth merely backed against the building. The balcony's roof would keep him dry enough. He'd risk the fury of a thunder storm rather than the raging hormones of over active whores any day. Thunder roared across the sky in waves, causing his ears to ring. He watched in curiosity as lights illuminated a large window on the third floor of the orphanage.

_Frightened by a little storm?_

His enhanced hearing picked up angry and terrified shouts from that general direction even through the howl of the winds and pounding of the rain. Was something of importance happening? He strode forward, as close to the patter of cold water against metal railing as he bothered.

A flash of color from below drew his attention. In the fenced in area behind the building, a shadow hastily made its way to the tall fence, running straight into it. It's blond hair acting as a red flag, shouting, 'Here I am'. The figure stayed there for a moment, clinging to the chain links, Sephiroth strained to hear his heavy breaths.

_He's not going to . . . ? He'll hurt himself . . . A grown man couldn't take that leap over the other side, much less a boy._

Sephiroth watched in slight interest as the figure slowly started up the fence. Once he'd made it to the top, he slung both legs over . . . and waited.

_Afraid of heights, or are you just tired from the climb? Or maybe, you've thought this through, and know you're going to get hurt._

The blond readied himself, and dropped from the full height of the fencing, landing on his feet, but dropping to his knees afterward, cradling an ankle. Sephiroth wondered if he should do something about the escape he'd witnessed as the youth limped to his feet and recovered quickly, running off toward the heart of the city. He shook his head, knowing the boy likely had nowhere to go, and would end up recaptured, if not dead in a few days.

_A normal, non-SOLDIER boy risking a fall like that for freedom. Is that place really so insufferable?_

He stood quickly, ears alert, as he heard the singing of sirens, distant, but growing closer. He knew from experience that Midgar's police didn't respond immediately to things like this unless other factors were involved, but what kind? Sephiroth decided it was none of his business and walked back inside the club, thinking that the escapee would have a rough night, between the searching police, and the cold weather.

_It's a win/lose situation. On one hand, the rain wil likelyl make him sick. On the other, it'll mask his scent from search dogs . . . from what I've seen, he's probably willing to risk a cold, even if that means sleeping on the streets._

**88888888**

A sharp sound startled Cloud awake. He sat bolt upright in the darkness of the sleep hall, straining his ears to determine if he'd dreamed the sound, or if he'd really heard it. Darkness veiled his eyesight, so he'd have to rely on sound until his eyes adjusted. He thought he heard a shuffling sound, perhaps someone walking on the wooden floor. Before he could react, his bed gave a loud creak and a hand was over his mouth, muffling his shout of fright from the ears of the sleeping orphans. A knife was at his throat in an instant, not a spoon-blade, a real knife. Was this another orphan? If so, how had they gotten a real knife onto the premises?

He shivered as whoever restrained him sadistically chuckled into his ear. The voice was male, and familiar, but Cloud couldn't place it. Cloud flinched as he felt the weight of another body at the foot of the bed.

"Get him to the floor. This bed's gonna wake those sleeping fucks."

The whisper was so soft Cloud couldn't discern who it could be. The warm body behind him forced him to the floor between his bed and the window with strength much greater than his own.

His eyes had adapted enough to see the silhouette of a figure crouched over him. The silhouette's head lowered. He felt hot breath on his ears.

"Where's my birthday present, hmm?"

Once realization hit, Cloud squirmed determinedly, both angered and terrified at once. The sharp sting of a new blade cutting into his throat settled him. His blood flowed to the floor and stained his hair and clothes. This cut was deeper than the one he'd received the first time he'd been forced into this, but still not lethal. His breaths became short and labored from the fluttering beat of his heart as panic seized him.

Matthew growled at him, "Any sound out of you, any sound at all, and, well, Arlex has been wanting to try out his new blade. Take your hand off his mouth." He directed to Arlex.

Arlex complied. Just as Cloud opened his mouth for sufficient air, rough lips ravaged his own. Matthew's tongue in his mouth was enough to make Cloud gag, he tasted as if he'd never brushed his teeth once. Their bodies were close, too close. Matthew pressed his knee to Cloud's groin, attempting to spark an arousal.

Cloud was too disgusted with the idea to feel anything at this point. The fact that Matthew was male didn't bother him, he liked other guys, but the fact that Matthew was Matthew, and that he just didn't want this, that pissed him off. Cloud felt what must have Arlex's hands on his wrists, pinning them down. Matthew continued to bite his lips, his tongue, his chin, drawing blood more than once. His assailant's idea of a kiss hurt.

Warm hands found their way beneath his shirt and groped his nipples. They ran up and down his sides. Then, Cloud felt Matthew's hardened length at his thigh. He struggled as a new wave of fear and anger wracked his mind. Matthew threw all his weight down onto his chest to hold him, divesting his lungs of air. He choked from lack of oxygen, and his eyes watered. Matthew sat up.

"We're going to do something a little different this time bitch, not a blow job . . . something . . . better."

Cloud's eyes widened, knowing what came next. He felt Matthew's hand at his zipper, pulling down. He noticed Matthew had lessened his hold on his legs, and brought one up in a hard kick, landing the blow in the brunette's face. Matthew fell back with a snarl, clutching his nose. In a brief moment of shock, Arlex had loosened his hold on Cloud's wrists. Not much, but adrenaline coursed through Cloud's veins like wildfire, giving him the strength to free himself. Rolling over, he charged Arlex, head-butting him in the abdomen. The red head's audible grunt stirred a few other orphans awake as he fell holding himself, but they weren't aware enough to know what was going on yet.

As Arlex fell backwards against the wall, he dropped his knife, and Cloud snatched it up without a second thought. He hadn't forgotten about Matthew, but apparently Matthew had forgotten about the blade. His abuser's hands came from behind, crushing his neck. With both hands still free, Cloud elbowed Matthew in the side, laxing Matthew's grip in sudden pain, giving Cloud room to maneuver. In that instant, Cloud whirled around and lashed out with the blade. A new alien sensation tingled through his arm as he felt the tear of flesh by steel, blood spattered his face, his hand and arm, the floor.

Matthew dropped to his knees holding his side with a blank stare on his face. Shock ravished Cloud's mind. What had he done? Killed. He had killed another human being with a blade. Oddly enough, it felt good, considering the human being in question. All those years of sexual abuse. He'd finally gotten revenge. Not premeditated, but still revenge. His thoughts continued to race as blood poured from those foul lips that had dared touch him without his consent. Matthew fell forewards into a pool of blood that had quickly accumulated, a small gurgling squeak escaping his mouth.

Cloud turned, Arlex was still on the ground, stunned into inaction. Cloud's mind was so bereft of coherent thought he spared the red head. Voices broke out as those asleep gained enough consciousness to understand what had awoken them, and what the horrible scene before them implied.

Fear rose to its peak in Cloud's mind. He raced to the door, breathing heavily. The reddened blade still grasped in his hand, he threw the door open with a booming clash of wood striking concrete with ample force. He dashed to the stairs, headed for the fenced in play area outside, where Arlex had told all those lies about street life, and friends. Cold rain fell thickly in fat drops at an angle, blinding his eyes. The blood at his neck washed downward, further staining his blue shirt. Lightning lit the sky, accompanied by a roar of thunder. He didn't care about the weather. He didn't care that he'd likely be pursued for murder. He focused on one thought, freedom. He didn't care that he'd probably hurt himself again. He ran straight to the tall fence, not glancing back once to see if he was pursued. Fingers clinging to the wet links, he leaned on it to let his thoughts catch up with him.

_What have I done? I'm a murderer . . . I didn't mean it . . . I was scared . . . he would've . . . raped me if I hadn't. That was my only way out, and I took it._

_Now you'll have both the health department and the police after you._

_Oh who the hell asked you. I'll deal with that later._

_They'll search tonight you know. They'll be after you, Cloud the murderer, not Cloud the victim of a rape attempt. A murderer. You've really done it now. There go your hopes of one day living a happy life._

_Oh shut up will you?_

Sometimes that inner voice of his common sense was just plain annoying, but, as usual, it was right. The police would be on his trail in less than an hour, regardless of the weather, and with dogs at that.

_Well, I guess this rain is good for something. It'll wash my scent into the gutters and carry it into the ocean._

He looked up to the top of his first obstacle, the fence. Or was it the second? Did murder count? He shook those thoughts away, only to have them replaced with memories of his first and last attempt at freedom. A ghost pain shot to his ankle.

Ignoring it, he began his ascent of the eighteen-foot tall fence. He took his time carefully reaching the top, seeing as the links were wet and slippery. Lightening flashed, and he prayed it wouldn't strike the obvious target the metal fence posed. He reached the top, swung both legs over to the other side, and waited.

The freezing rain pounded his back, and weighted his hair, large droplets dribbled from his bangs and into his eyes. They continued further to drip from his nose, washing away the dead teen's blood. His thoughts were filled with trepidation as he readied himself for what would likely be a painful jump. The memory of his last fall didn't help. Forcing it aside, he took a deep breath, and pushed off.

To him, the fall took forever. In retrospect, he learned one important thing that day. Just because you can stand on your own feet with no problem, that doesn't mean your legs will hold you when traveling toward asphalt at a steadily increasing momentum.

When he landed, his legs gave out beneath him, and he fell to his hands and knees. A sharp pain jolted through his ankle, the one that had been injured before.

_Dammit. Figures it wouldn't be completely healed yet. Fuck, I can't believe this._

_Look on the bright side. You're not in the orphanage anymore._

He checked his injured ankle. It was usable. Then he held up his hands. The palms were bloody and dirty. Tiny rocks had embedded themselves there. He winced as the cool rain washed away the blood. He was also aware of a throbbing numbness in his knees, caused by the impact of bone and stone.

_I'll fix them later, right now, I need to stand._

He waited for the pain in his ankle to dissipate, then stumbled to his feet. As he'd expected, the throb returned, and he almost fell again. He ran, not knowing where to, not caring about the increasing pain in his leg. He had to find shelter from the rain that would double as a hiding place from the police and their mongrels.

He wondered down the first back alley he found. His leg was killing him. He'd done more than sprain it, judging by the pain, perhaps a fracture. Luck was on his side as he turned the corner. There, he spotted an old car. So old, it's model and original color were indistinguishable. He made his way to it, and leaned against the side to peak through the window. It still had upholstery. Torn and moldy, but it looked better than wet concrete or a cardboard box, so he wrestled the rusty door open and slipped into the back seat. To his relief, he didn't have to fight any rats out of the way, and there were no leaks. It was quite dry and cozy.

Settling in, he lay his injured leg out in front of him and rolled up his soaked pant leg. He then pressed his fingers along the swollen flesh, assessing the damage. He yelped and bared his teeth. Yeah, it was definitely fractured. What was he supposed to do about this? He couldn't go to the hospital. He'd committed murder and they'd just send him right back to the orphanage as soon as he was healed. The orphanage, in turn, would turn him in to the authorities. Sure, orphans killed each other all the time, but the others who'd committed such a crime weren't dumb enough to do it while over half of the facility's charges were present, sleeping or not.

_Well, it's not as if I had a choice now is it? I didn't exactly choose to be subjected to attempted rape._

_Did you really have to kill him?_

_Okay, I got a little carried away. I was scarred and pissed. The knife was in my hand, and I panicked. I have a feeling if I hadn't escaped, they'd both have gotten some of me._

_You should have killed Arlex too. If you're captured and taken to court, he'll deny what he and Matthew did to save his own ass. Don't you ever think?/ _

_I won't be captured. I'll die before I go back there./ _

_Well, with your leg in this condition, it looks like you've made a pretty good head start._

_Shut up. Why am I arguing with you anyway, you're me after all . . . I can make you shut up if I want to._

_Suuuure you can._

_SHUT UP!!!_

_Hmpf . . . _

Shaking his head, he held up his palms. He began the tedious task of removing the tiny gravels, digging the knife into his own flesh and wrenching them out like a dentist pulling loose teeth. It took longer than he'd expected. When he'd finally finished, he explored the gash on his neck. It wasn't deep, but could still get infected. As of now, he had nothing to bandage it with. His cloths were soaked, but he'd much rather have them than not.

_I'll have to find something tomorrow._

He lay down in the seat and curled up to keep warm the best he could, using his own arms as a pillow. The storm raged. Winds whirled and lightning bolted from the heavens with deafening quakes, but he didn't care. His leg throbbed, his knees were numb from the fall, and his palms ached, but he didn't care. He didn't care that if he was found, he'd most likely spend the rest of his life in prison for defending himself. Neither did he worry about where he'd find his next meal, or how he'd fix his ankle. The only thought that made itself known in his mind was the fact that he was free at last.

**88888888**

Author Notes:

I'll have you know, this is the first fanfic I've EVER written, so don't be too harsh.

Just in case you're wondering, Cloud doesn't go to prostitution. I'm not a fan of things of that nature. This is a SephirothXCloud fic, though I've decided to take my time in getting them together. They do meet in chapter two, but it's not a 'love at first sight' type of thing. It's more like a 'Cloud makes a bad decision that turns out good' kind of thing.

This chapter has been revised as of 12-10-08


	2. Wounds

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters except Arlex, Matthew, and Tylus. The rest belong to Sqaure Enix. A terrible shame huh?

WARNINGS: Language, Violence. (This chapter's not much as fare as warnings go.)

**Chapter Two**

**Wounds**

Cloud sat up with a pained groan. His body felt so stiff. He opened his eyes, only to realize he wasn't back in his bed at the orphanage anymore. Then the events of last night flooded back into his memory. His first thoughts were of his leg. Looking down didn't help. His ankle was purple and swollen, and he discovered he could move it only a little.

_Just ignore the pain. Pretend it's not there. No matter how much it hurts, you can't just lay here mumbling all day. _

He investigated his hands next. They weren't so bad. In fact, most of the tiny abrasions had scabbed over and had already begun to heal. Following his own advice, he ignored the pain in his leg, and leaned forwards. With quite a bit of effort, he broke the rear view mirror from the car's windshield. Wiping it off on his damp sleeve, he held it up so he could see his neck. He touched one finger to the gash there and pus oozed out. It had become infected overnight.

"Oh boy, I look and feel terrible. Great," he cursed aloud.

He patted his stomach lazily as it gave yet another angry growl.

"I know, I know . . . You'll have to wait. I don't think I can even walk right now."

On his growling stomach's whim, he forced the door open and crawled out onto the asphalt. He leaned his back against the car and began the task of mentally preparing himself for what would most likely be a very painful experience.

_I need something to lean on as I walk._

He looked around. The alley had been too dark to take in the night before. Not like he was paying enough attention to his surroundings then anyway. There wasn't much to observe truly. Just the rusty old car he'd slept in, a dumpster, and a few trash cans. He couldn't believe his luck, however, when he spotted, propped up between two of the trash cans, single crutch, thrown away because it was missing the foam padding at the top. It would definitely be much better than nothing. He graciously thanked Mother Gaia for her generosity.

Cloud thrust all his weight against the car. Using it as his sole source of leverage, he struggled to his feet. Fuck, his ankle was killing him.

_Ignore the pain, ignore the pain, ignore the pain. It's not there. It's not real. _

_Bullshit. This hurts too much to ignore, you dumbass. It is real! _

_I'm so nice to myself . . ._

He limped over to the crutch and took it in one hand. He had to adjust it to make it shorter.

_Imagine that . . ._ he thought sarcastically.

It was sturdy enough to help support his small frame. He tested his step a few times, wandering in wayward excuses for circles. Satisfied, he made his way to the street, which was surprisingly empty.

_Where the hell am I supposed to get breakfast? Well, Arlex said he stole his . . . _

_He also acted like he was your friend, now didn't he? That turned out to be a lie. _

While Cloud knew Arlex had lied, he didn't doubt that the red head had lived on the streets during one point in his life. So, there was only one question. Take his supposed enemy's advice and attempt to burgle his breakfast, or find an alternative solution.

Cloud concluded that there was no other way, aside from dumpster diving, which he wasn't willing to resort to just yet. Besides, with his bad foot, he probably would not be able to get into a dumpster, much less back out again. He'd try Arlex's way first, Cloud decided. Now, to find the marketplace Arlex had called Wal-Market.

He wondered around, receiving strange glances as he passed other people. Some even had the nerve to point, or whisper behind his back. He payed them no attention and continued on his way. He imagined he looked pretty rough. His shirt still bore blood stains, and his black pants where slightly torn at the knees, not to mention the plentiful, paltry nicks, cuts, and bruises. Then, there was his pitiful limp, the bullet in the gun. He hated the attention of someone's eyes on him. It made him feel as if everyone was sizing him up, judging him as inferior before they even heard him speak. Anger began to boil inside of him, accompanied by his body's minute rise in temperature, which he tried to deny. So he continued on his way, fighting his rising anger at the people of Midgar in general. He resisted the urge to stop in his tracks, raise his fists and shout at them to mind their own damned business, concluding it'd only make them stare harder.

"Why are humans so . . . so fucking full of themselves?" He muttered aloud, not caring who heard. "It's not as if my life, my physical state, and _certainly_ not my looks concern them."

It took him the better part of an hour, but finally, by following the stream of gawking morons, he chanced upon a seemingly endless sea of civilians all clustered around covered wooden stands and tents that looked as if they'd been thrown up in haste. Cloud noted that many bore their goods without any security or watchfulness at all. This had to be it, Wal-Market. His attention immediately left his subject of fury. He'd heard of it, what it sold, and how it operated. Anything could be bought here. Anything from weapons, armor and materia, to exotic pets, rare antiques, jewelry, potions, and sometimes even illegal contraband. More importantly, he could find food and clothes here. His eyes widened in excitement. All of these things were in one place, and if he played his pawns correctly, he had access to all of it.

Cloud's mind reeled. Where to start? And once he did find something he wanted, how to go about obtaining it without being caught? He looked at this as an opportunity to prove to himself that he could be sly, cunning, sneaky, and quick. He'd never stolen anything before, unless a sock counted.

_Hm, quick . . . with _this_ leg? Whatever. ._ .

He felt a pang of guilt at what he was about to do, but knew it had to be done.

_Stealing is dishonorable and vile. _

_Since when have I ever been allowed any honor? _

_Still, it's wrong. What if you get caught? _

_I won't get caught. _

_Isn't that what they all say?_

He was beginning to dislike the mental voice of his common sense, which he tended to ignore all too often. He found himself blindly following his instincts more often than not.

_That's what you said the first time you hurled yourself over an eighteen-foot tall fence. _

"Starvation, or become a thief?" he retorted to himself.

That shut up his mental rambling. It would seem, that even that little voice in his head wouldn't argue when bribed with the promise of a much needed meal.

He'd have to be careful not to further agitate his injury on top of all his other problems, but nevertheless, he felt this was going to be an enjoyable experience. He tried to take in everything at once, the sounds, the smells, the sights, the outlandish people. It was like taking an eight hundred pound man to a free all-you-can-eat buffet.

Cloud's stomach grumbled even louder than before at the delicious aromas that wafted by his nose. He couldn't wait to find their source. He began his search at the nearest stand, fighting his way to the front. Small colorful orbs where placed behind glass cases.

_These must be materia. There are so many . . . _

He'd never seen materia before either, not even before his mother's death. He'd only read about them in a magazine. He marveled at them, wondering what powers lie dormant in each one. He decided he'd have to learn to use them someday, but not today. They were too hard to get at. Damn those glass cases. Maybe it was for the best. If he did acquire one, he'd probably accidentally kill himself with it anyway. His first day of freedom and he'd died already, perfect.

He passed a clothing tent, observing their merchandise. Slinking among the honest shoppers, he made his way to the racks of new cloths. A sign above one read denim. He'd never worn denim before, but many did by the looks of the people surrounding him. He figured it would be wise to blend in with the crowd, considering his status as an apparent fugitive.

He'd never shopped for himself, so, naturally, he didn't know what size he'd need, but first priorities came first. Which ones did he like? Regular blue seemed too frequent in the displays of those around him, and he didn't want to blend in that much. Just enough to stave off the stares of Midgar's civilians. Moving down the rack, he found black jeans which appealed to him greatly. Lifting a pair from the rack, he held them to his waist.

They were obviously too big. He repeated this with every black pair in the clothing tent. They all seemed too big. He had to gain some weight. Disheartened, he went back to blue, and dug in the endless pile of designs until he unearthed a lighter washed pair. Two scaly, black winged serpents entwined down one leg. One baring dripping fangs, the other screaming in apparent agony, as a highly decorated dagger pierced the roof of its mouth.

For some reason, he felt attracted to the serpents and held the pants to his waist. They weren't too big. Cloud grinned, barley able to suppress his joy. He felt like whooping out, but knew he couldn't take the risk of drawing attention. One more problem. How was he to klepto an item this big? He'd decide that after he found himself a shirt.

Browsing the ails, his attention was drawn by a high-neck, ribbed, sleeveless jumper, black of course. He didn't need to compare it to himself, he could tell by looking it would fit. I mean, come on, almost everything fit his small frame, and it wouldn't hurt for the shirt to be the tiniest but baggy, as long as it didn't hang off of him like a garbage bag.

He didn't need shoes. He wore a sturdy pair of boots the orphanage had handed out to him. Used boots, but they'd live a lot longer. Looking down, he wondered who'd owned them before him. They were black, mid-rise, blunt steal-toed, and rather heavy. The only decorations were a small red diamond on the heel that read, 'ShinRa Inc.' Aside from the decorations he knew they'd been originally manufactured with, one had three shallow slashes along one the side.

_What the hell did the person who had these before me do for a living? Swim with piranhas? And what the fuck is ShinRa Inc.? _

Being sheltered, more like 'imprisoned' in the orphanage for the majority of his life, meant he was completely clueless when it came to knowledge other than common sense in the outside world. He'd never once watched television, never listened to a radio, never read a real book. He'd never done much of anything other than be bored to fucking death at that.

Finished with his 'shopping', he glanced around nervously. Now, came the hard part, making it out of the store with said items. He took in the entirety of the tent. Before, he hadn't noticed that one wall was dedicated to the sale of porcelain knick-knacks and glass ornaments. There were in the perfect location, on the opposite wall of the exit. Maybe he could . . . use them as a distraction?

He strolled over to the shelves upon shelves of delicate masterpieces. He almost felt bad about what he was about to do, knowing that most of them were hand-blown, therefore, some poor person had spent hours of labor to create what they hoped would bring joy and beauty to someone's home.

_Well, they are going to bring me joy . . . as in a desperately needed pair of clothes. _

Was he really becoming so sadistic?

No surprise there. He'd been mentally antagonized and downcast for so long, that his tormentors, meaning every pathetic person happily living their lives in Midgar and thinking they had life hard, were beginning to infect him with their deadly virus as well. That virus, which Cloud affectionately referred to as 'weakness', was the most deadly thing to possibly smite the human mind. Yes, mind. Cloud knew he was weak in body, but he had always told himself that didn't matter, not as long as his mind was fortified to the relative solidity of a tempered diamond. But that didn't mean he couldn't dream.

His body disgusted him, it being so scrawny and small. Hell, he couldn't even fight off Matthew. He reminded himself that Matthew was older than himself too, but still bigger. He went back to his mental note about gaining musculature. There was no time better to begin than now. Or, after he'd made it out with his clothes and swiped a meal that is. No use working out on a hopelessly empty stomach.

Coming out of his reverie, he focused on the task at hand. A distraction. He chose a small glass orb from the shelf. Small, but heavy . . . perfect. An uncharacteristic smirk brushed Cloud's features. Wiping it away, he pretended he planned to buy the orb, and stalked purposely toward the checkout. Then, consciously stopping between two shelves of books, acting as if he had interest. He glanced around cautiously. Convinced no one would see, he raised his hand with lightening speed, and sent the heavy little orb flying to its certain doom, the shelf of fragile breakables.

Upon contact, chaos ensued. Several surprised yelps could be heard as hundreds of expensive statues shattered the floor with more than one resounding crash. Cloud jerked up at the commotion, feigning shock. The pandemonium climaxed as two men began swinging at each other, one apparently believing the other had thrown one of the glass ornaments at him, the other defending himself against an enraged schizophrenic.

The clerk tending the register screamed and lifted a phone to her ear, dialing security. Cloud took this as his chance. He waited until the clerk was too occupied to pay him any attention, and hurried through the exit and into the market outside. Seeing the concerned looks from the passerby, he slowed his pace and offered them all a traumatized grin.

He pointed behind him with his thumb. "Hell of a fight going on in there now. They knocked over some shelves." That said, most people continued on their way in disinterest, as if this kind of thing happened often, which probably did on second thought. Some exited individuals, on the other hand, rushed in, desperately in need of entertainment.

Cloud heard someone shout, 'GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING UNDERWEAR!' and decided not to stick around, especially if someone was now running around in the nude trying to steal back their own underpants.

_Who the hell steals underwear? When someone else is already wearing it at that? _

Shaking off that train of thought, he smiled widely at the success of his plan. He hadn't meant to cause a pre-apocalyptic mini-apocalypse, but he'd enjoyed it. This feeling, was it what people called fun? He'd definitely need to have more of this . . . fun, but maybe not on such a chaotic level. He continued on his way, all the while wearing a rare smirk on his face.

He slipped between two tents, that where barely a foot apart due the crowds of merchants, and changed into his stolen goods. The pants fit his waist like a glove.

_Now there's a first. _

The shirt was even more of a surprise, it was a little too big, but not distastefully so. He still had the task of gaining a few pounds anyway. It was a drastic change from the overly large regular T-shirts handed out at the orphanage. He couldn't quite see himself, but, looking down, he was given a surprise. He looked good from what he could see. Fear seeped into him as his thoughts lingered back to the orphanage, then to Matthew.

_Maybe . . . looking good isn't such a great thing after all. I'll just have to be careful. Never again will I let someone else get pleasure from my body without my own consent. _

His previous venture in the clothing tent had given him a bit of confidence. He was now mentally prepared to kick anyone's ass if they tried anything, no matter how much bigger they were. He still had the knife in his boot. He felt guilty for keeping it, the esteemed murder weapon, but knew he'd likely need it.

_Heh . . . Aren't you forgetting? You did kick someone's ass. No, it's more like, you _killed_ someone's ass. _

Now, the task of feeding himself. He continued his challenge of following his nose to food, which he'd bee distacted away from by the clothing tent. He passed several other small shops and stands, a shop that sold only fish, a shop that sold birds, (why anybody would want a noisy, mite infested pet that called its owner bad names whenever it felt the need he'd never know) and some shops that sold things he'd never even seen before.

Finally, he chanced upon the first food stall he'd seen since his visit to Wal-Market. He'd never before eaten barbequed pork, but it sure smelled heavenly. He watched as many hungry patrons went up to the counters, placed their orders, waited for their food, then payed the required amounts. No matter how hard he thought on the matter, Cloud couldn't sheme up a plan as to how he would aquire a meal without getting caught. He couldn't just waltz up, place an order, then take the food and run with a waiter starring straight at him, expecting payment no less. He thought about stealing food from someone who'd already payed and begun to walk away, but discerned he'd never make off with an entire plate of hot, steaming barbeque with his injured leg. He'd have to carry it with two hands, but, with the crutch, he didn't have a second hand to spare. He could always just . . . No, he'd never beg for food. He'd rather die than sink to that level. Besides, someone might recognize him from the newspaper's wanted section or something. He was positive news of his crime had been revealed to the public by now, and he probably had a price on his head as well.

He hung his head, saddened that his stomach's pleas would go unattended. He decided to try another food place. Maybe the barbeque stall was the only one that served in this manner. He continued on his way, searching for another source of food.

Returning from his dark cave of thoughts, he practically tripped over a waist-high rope, as he was busy focusing on everything but the space directly in front of himself. Regaining his balance, and cursing from the newly aggravated jolt of pain in his ankle, he looked up only to have his face buried in an expanse of musky yellow fluff. He stumbled backwards in surprise, but clung to the crutch which he'd dug into the ground. He didn't fall all the way. With an enormous effort, he pulled himself back up to his full height, and turned to face his soft yellow attacker.

_What the . . . ?! _

Before him stood the biggest bird he'd ever seen. The only thing that separated it from him was the single rope he'd all but flipped over. The bird warbled in delight when it noticed his awed expression. It flapped its wings and jumped into the air. At that, Cloud noticed there were several more in the holding pin with it. Not all were yellow, but he marveled at them all the same.

_They don't seem to be threatening . . . actually, it's kinda cute, but, what the hell is it?!_

He was startled by a booming voice from behind.

"What, you ain't never seen a chocobo 'afore?"

Cloud turned to find a mountain of a man standing behind him. He wore a stained red button-up shirt, which only made his barreled chest look even wider, and a pair of dark blue jeans, whose legs disappeared into deep brown leather high-top boots, which were caked in what could only be feces.

"Ch . . . chocobo? What's a chocobo?"

"What? Yeh're not serious?"

The tall man put one hand to his face,

"Where in the hell are you from?"

Not wanting to reveal that he was from the orphanage, Cloud responded with the only

other place he'd ever been.

"N. . . Nibelhiem . . . sir."

"Nibelhiem . . . "

The man scratched his head as he thought.

"Isn't that a lil' ole village up near Mount Nibel?"

Cloud nodded.

"Don't they have any chocobos up there?"

"Not that I remember, no."

Of course he wouldn't remember. He hadn't been to Nibelhiem in almost ten years. Even when he had lived there, he'd paid next to no attention to the village itself, being preoccupied with house chores and such. His mother probably wouldn't have cared if he'd gone out for a while. Hell, she'd have been happy if he'd run away never to return. Just one less mouth to feed.

The big man rubbed his chin in thought. A friendly smile graced his surly features, an unusual sight indeed Cloud decided. Not that the smile seemed out of place, it fit, but just barely.

"My name's Tylus." He thrust out a calloused hand. "You are . . .?"

"Cl...."

Cloud hesitated. He couldn't tell this man his real name. The news of his crime surely had spread by now. Thinking quickly to correct his mistake he cleared his throat as if he'd been interrupted by a cough, not a quick decision, and continued.

"Clyde. My name is Clyde." He accepted the crushing hand which was at least five times bigger than his own.

"Hmmm . . ." Tylus scratched his chin. "Yeh don't look like a Clyde, but, hey, our parents can't see the future, now, can they?"

Cloud's ears rang with booming laughter as the huge man released his hand.

"What happened to yeh leg there? It don't look too good."

Not wanting to reveal any details of his escape whatsoever, Cloud simply replied with a curt. "Nothing."

Tylus wasn't fooled by that lie because, obviously, _something_ had happened to Cloud's leg. Thankfully, the man respected his privacy and didn't press the matter. He welcomely changed the subject.

"Well, seeing as yeh've never seen a chocobo afore, I think you should get to know 'em a little better."

"How can I get to know them better? I practically melded my face into the gold one's chest."

Hearty laughter rattled his head again as Tylus lumbered over to the corner of the holding pen and returned with a bucket full of what looked to be grass.

"Would yeh like to feed him?"

"Feed him? I . . . I don't . . ."

"They don't bite, promise. There's no reason at all to be afraid of chocobos. They ain't mindless eating machines like their close cousins the ostrich. Actually, if they could talk, they'd be just like people. Very happy-go-lucky people."

Tylus stepped over the rope, gesturing for Cloud to follow. Cloud's instincts screamed at him. Why should he trust this man? Even if he seemed friendly, so had Arlex less than twelve hours before he'd attempted to rape him. This man was no different, just as dubious as any other he'd yet to come across. Not wanting to end himself up in another hurtful situation, he decided to worm his way out of it.

"I . . . I don't think I should," he mumbled, and turned to leave. "I have somewhere to be, and not enough time to get there," he lied.

"Eh, suit yourself. If you ever wanna come spend some time with my chocobos, I'm here every Wednesday, and me son tends the sales on Thursday."

The big man waved him off cheerfully.

Cloud crutched away and decided to take a rest. He'd already exhausted himself in his weakened state. After all, he didn't need to make his leg any worse. He plopped down into the dirt, leaning against a post being used to support a corner of a gun shop. Yes, in his new jeans. Not that he cared, his leg was beginning to throb with slow dull pains. A cooling breeze caressed his sweating body, soothing his mind of the waves of discomfort emanating from his ankle. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling as he unintentionally drifted into a slumber.

**88888888**

Sephiroth woke early the next morning. He didn't bother showering, but dressed himself in a black long sleeved cotton shirt, and a pair of black silk drawstring pants. As for his hair, he pulled it back from his face with a loose tie.

As soon as he exited his bedroom and into his den, he let out an annoyed groan. Zack lay sprawled in an unusual position on his couch, drool oozing from his gaping mouth. Sephiroth sighed. Last night he'd gone home after the rain had stopped, and apparently Zack had decided to follow suit, but instead of going to his quarters back at ShinRa, Sephiroth's old quarters which he knew were quite comfortable, he'd come back to the white-haired man's apartment to sleep on his couch.

He felt he'd never understand his odd friend. He crossed the room to said sofa and observed the various filth Zack had brought along with him. The floor around him was littered with beer bottles, and Zack's unconscious form clutched one loosely in its left hand. A magazine titled 'Play Rabbit' lay on display across the sleeping man's chest, open to a very explicit page showing two women doing . . . ahem . . . things. Sephiroth noted Zack's fly was open. He shook his head and relieved Zack's hand of the beer bottle, and the magazine. Sephiroth had a feeling that he already knew what the other hand had been up to before he fell asleep.

He threw both items away, and went to retrieve a blanket. When he returned, he slowly relocated Zack's limbs into what looked to be a more comfortable position, not wanting him to wake up with pins and needles, or a crick in his neck. Sephiroth quirked an eyebrow at the next thought that wafted through his mind. No. He was not about to zip his friend's pants for him. he sighed and then draped the blanket over Zack'x sprawled form.

Satisfied, he moved to his kitchen, where he found more of Zack's mess. The whole carton of ice cream had been left out on the counter to melt. He growled to himself at his friend's stupidity. Zack may be his replacement as general, but without his guidance, ShinRa would indefinitely be screwed, seeing that, no matter how well developed Zack's skill's became, he was still just an overgrown teenager. He grudgingly cleaned up the large sticky puddle of vanilla and strawberry, and discarded the soggy container. He'd save whatever mess the dark-haired man had left in his guests' bathroom for said being.

Finally, time to brew his coffee. As he waited for his morning beverage, the doorbell rang.

_Who the hell would visit me this early? _

He went to answer the door, and was met by a man whose black hair fell straight and smooth to his shoulders. He wore a navy blue suit, and a small dot adorned his forehead, Tseng of the Turks.

"Sephiroth Sir, you're just the man I've been searching for," he said in a silky voice.

"Tseng, what business have you with me?" He didn't bother questioning the Turk's unusual choice of timing.

"As you may already know, ShinRa has officially declared war with Wutai."

"Official? No, I thought we were in the preliminaries of war. When did the situation escalate?"

Sephiroth motioned Tseng inside, finding their current subject too confidential to discuss with half of the party standing in an open hallway. He led Tseng to his kitchen instead of the den, seeing Zack was currently unpresentable. He also didn't think it appropriate for Tseng to see their general in a semi-hangover.

Tseng took a seat on a cherry-wood bar stool. Sephiroth opted to stand.

Tseng continued. "As I was saying, ShinRa declared official war against Wutai last night at around 2300 hours."

"What pushed us?" The ex-general began to pace.

"We received General Zack's report on his last mission. Yes, I know you accompanied him. Trust me, if you were anyone else, you'd have been charged with espionage by now, and I'd be arresting you at this moment with a team of SOLDIER First Class instead of calmly conversing with you in your kitchen, but you're our ex-general, so, naturally, you've been allowed a few conssesions."

Sephiroth halted in his pacing and sighed. One person couldn't keep his daily actions a secret from the government, yet an entire country, such as Wutai, could. What was the world coming to? He supposed Zack had revealed his accompaniment in the report, or maybe ShinRa had learned of his presence in Wutai from the infirmary reports written up when he'd dragged Zack in. Either way, they knew.

"We've done our research on those six cloaked warriors who attacked the two of you. It turns out they were deserters from Wutai War One. Well, they were missing in action, but, since they've been found, their title has been formally changed in ShinRa's archives. It seems they agreed to betray their country in exchange for their lives. Only one thing bothers me. Their personal files state that they were only regular soldiers who weren't strong enough to make it to so much as SOLDIER Third Class, and they almost killed General Zack. They've gained so much strength in so little time." Tseng looked justly puzzled.

"They did seem abnormally fast," Sephiroth agreed, leaning against the bar.

"This isn't the only reason I've come here tonight," Tseng enlightened.

Sephiroth's curiosity had been piqued. "Continue."

"I've been sent to request that you come out of retirement."

"I guessed as much." He observed his rarely un-gloved hands."My answer is yes, but under three conditions. One, if Zack agrees to resign his position to me. Two, if Zack will be assigned as my second-in-command, and three, if I can stay here in my apartment."

Tseng looked a bit taken aback by his forward mannerism, but nodded all the same.

"Yes, you may continue to reside here if you so wish. As fare as General Zack goes, he cannot be currently located to discuss this matter with, but if he agrees, then he will indeed be assigned as Lieutenant-General."

The corner of Sephiroth's lips curled into a small smile.

"I can find him for you."

"You know where he is? All of the Turks have been ordered to temporarily abandon their current assignments to search for him. I doubt you can find him any quicker."

"Oh really? I beg to differ. If you will . . ."

Sephiroth stood and beckoned Tseng to follow him into the den. Tseng stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him. Zack had begun to snore, and quite loudly at that. The trail of drool leading from his mouth to his chest had nearly doubled in size since Sephiroth had resituated him.

"Um . . . well, at least we now know where he goes when he's missing."

**88888888**

The growling of Cloud's stomach roused him. He sat up, groggily rubbing his eyes. It was night, and Wal-Market's lamps had been lit. He'd fallen asleep?!

_There you go, dumbass, great way to keep your guard up! _

To his astonishment, people were still up and about, but not like in daylight. Now, most of the people he saw staggered from drunkenness. While he had been sleeping, a new tent had been erected in the stead of the chocobo stall. He assumed Tylus had loaded up his chocobos and left until Wednesday. In front of this new tent, someone had posted a sign that read 'Wal-Pub, best beer in Midgar.'

A pub, and drunks . . . great. Why did he always have to worm himself into such dismal environments? Cloud hated drunks because, the way he'd learned things, where there were drunks, there were fights. Not to mention, men tended to get a little excited under the influence of alcohol. The atmosphere just didn't appeal to him at all. He'd have to leave hungry and hope the best for finding somewhere else to fill his belly.

He rose to his feet, gripping his crutch, and began his journey back to the abandoned car. His stomach roared at him with an animalistic fury. He hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours. Annoyed at himself for falling asleep and not finding a suitable meal, he limped through the nearly empty streets of Sector Six. It had to be past midnight, so most people were warm in their beds.

As Cloud passed the opening of an alleyway, a viscous snarl tore through the air to meet him. At first, he thought his stomach had finally blown a fuse, but then he heard it again, and this time it sounded much closer. He caught a flash of brown in his right eye, but before he could turn to see what if was, the snarling brown creature had slammed into him at a full running tackle. He had only enough time to act on one of the most basic of animal instincts and shielded his face with his arms.

He went down without much of a fight, seeing he'd been weakened by his injuries and lack of food. He let out a cry as the furry mass tore at his arm. He was at a loss for actions, struggling to keep the monster away from the softer tissues of his face, throat, and abdomen.

He couldn't see, could only feel the creature's heat smothering him, and its weight holding him down. Fighting against its strength, he realized his efforts were in vain. The brute's musculature far outmatched his own. He felt the warmth of his own blood on his cheeks and neck as the beast tore at his flesh, but didn't panic. Instead, his mind reeled for scenarios to free himself from this nightmare, release him from this horrid hell-hound's jaws.

At last, he remembered Arlex's dagger in his boot. Thankful that he'd kept it despite the fact that it was an alleged murder weapon, he chanced removing one hand from his face and brought it down to meet his good foot halfway.

His hand fumbled there for a second, then, finally, he managed to work the hilt from his heel. He had the blade unsheathed in an instant, and brought it up in a wide arc ready to release the strength built up by adrenaline. He brought the dagger down hard into the creature's back, its spine by the sound of it, in a single swift blow.

The mass above him let out a terrible piercing scram, akin to that of a banshee, he thought, before it collapsed onto him, paralyed. He lay there for a moment, breathing in the bastard's putrid scent, a scent unlike anything he'd ever inhaled before. It smelled earthy, yet like a rotting corpse both at once. After he caught his breath, he rolled the beast off of himself, and turned to examine it.

A dog. A brown pit bull twice his size. Its eyes were frozen in an eerie stare, its pupils mere slits, like a cat's, with glowing green irises. Yes, glowing. Many scars had been carved into the rogue's flesh.

Rabies. Did it have rabies? It wasn't foaming at the mouth, but those eyes. What else would explain them?

_Maybe the pit bull was just born that way. _

He doubted it, but he still had to try comforting himself as much as possible. He took one look at his arm and shuddered. The wound wasn't deep, but it looked nasty and the same earthy stench emanated from it. It would most definitely become infected.

He hadn't the slightest idea how to go about cleaning a wound like this. The dog had simply bitten on once, and hadn't let go. Cloud could clearly see the outline of the beast's canines where they'd pierced his forearm. The rest was a mess of incisions and bruises where it had lunged its entire head to and fro, trying to rip his arm off. Cloud was grateful that the wound hadn't bled much, but he had to admit, he'd never been hurt like this before, never. He hadn't felt the pain during the attack. Now,however, his the gaping wounds began to pulse with an ache he had never experienced before.

Then, there was the risk that the monster had rabies. If that were the case, which was very likely, he'd without a doubt die of it soon.

He didn't know what to do. What could he do? He couldn't go to the hospital. He'd be arrested and charged for murder. He had nowhere to go, and no one to help him.

Cloud didn't cry often, hell, he had cried more within the past few days than he had in the entirety of his life. It was as if his emotions had just begun to function properly, and for the first time, he allowed himself the right of self-pity. Not anger at himself as he'd felt when he'd wept in his bed back at the orphanage, but sadness for himself. These tears came from his fear of losing his life. He didn't have a great life, but it was the only one he would ever get, and he wasn't willing to give it up so easily.

So he cried. He curled into as tight a ball as he could manage, and let the tears flow. Thoughts raced through his mind. What had he done to piss off the higher deities above that made them despise him so? All he wanted was a normal life like everyone else had been gifted with. All he wanted was someone who cared, but no! Everyone wanted to cause him harm in one way or another.

He stayed where he was, crouched on the ground for what must have been over an hour. His sobs relented and his breathing evened out as he watched the sun peak over the horizon. He paid one last glance to the dead carcass not far from him. It lay there, motionless, its eyes still glowed even in death. Cloud shuddered and prayed the creature hadn't given him a deadly disease.

He looked down to his arm, expecting to see the torn mess of flesh he'd seen when he last looked at it, but was given a pleasant, yet eerie surprise. The bruises around it had all but disappeared, and the gashes where teeth had ripped at him had already begun to heal.

He marveled at it, wide-eyed. People just didn't heal this fast, especially not a wound like this. He'd been so sure it would become infected and not heal at all, resulting in his eventual death from infection or fever. Maybe his prayers worked, or maybe some other unknown factor had come into play. He didn't know, nor did he care. The only thing he could think of was the fact that his arm would be healed up in less than a week if its progress kept up this pace.

Curious, he looked down to his ankle, and a wide grin graced his features. It wasn't as swollen, and it was no longer discolored. He stood slowly, expecting the pain it had tortured him with for the last thirty-six hours now, but it never came. All he got from it was a weak pang, but a weak pang was a hell of a lot better than a staggering sear.

His grin grew even wider. For some odd reason, his body had begun to heal at an inhuman rate, but why? He tossed that subject aside, having more to be grateful for now than he'd ever had before. He began his journey back to the abandoned vehicle he'd slept in, leaving his crutch behind. Like he'd need it now? He could walk with only a small limp, and things could only get better. Well, as long as he stayed off of it. He wasn't about to abuse his new found vitality.

**88888888**

Author Notes;

Hello! I know you're all waiting eagerly for Cloud and Seph to meet. I'd originally planned for it to happen in this chapter, but I've decided to put it in chapter three. I promise that they will meet soon. If not chapter three, then chapter four. If it's any later, I give you all my permission to slaughter me in any manner which you see fit. Unless it involves feet or pickles. I hate feet and pickles.

I'll have you know, this is going to be a long fic, but the longer the better right? *Thinks perverted thoughts* Anyways, I have a lot planned, with Wutai War Two and all.

PLEASE REVIEW!!!!

This chapter has been updated as of 12-10-08


	3. Mako Poisoning

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any Square Enix related indica.

WARNINGS: Gore, Violence, Language. (Not many in this chapter either I'm afraid.)

**Chapter 3 **

**Mako Poisoning**

Sephiroth poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and went to his sofa to relax. He sat down, propped his legs on his end table, and powered on the television. He didn't watch television often, but decided he'd better get to know this war from a citizen's point of view as well as a general's.

Yesterday had been quite interesting in retrospect. Zack had woken as soon as Tseng had left. Sephiroth had given his friend time to come back to the world of the conscious fully, then relayed the information brought to him by the Turk's visit.

Zack had then sighed, as if an enormous burden had been lifted from his shoulders, which, technically speaking, was the case. Zack agreed, with a little too much relief in his voice, that Sephiroth was welcome to take back his old rank, mentioning something about him never being completely comfortable in the position of General anyway.

That said and done, Sephiroth had gone with Zack in tow, just like the old days, to the ShinRa complex to reconquer his old office, which Zack had practically destroyed as far as organization and cleanliness went. They'd spent all day moving out the belonging's of Zack's second-in-command, an old gray-haired man, who Zack apparently couldn't stand, into an unused office down the hall. They brought Sephiroth's desk from storage in the ShinRa basement, and began to shape their shared office back into what Sephiroth referred to as 'a functional work space.'

Though Zack had given up his rank, he was reluctant to let go of The General's Suite, the quarters occupied by ShinRa's current General. Sephiroth allowed him to keep it. After all, he had his apartment. Even if the suite was bigger, he didn't feel like moving all of his belongings halfway across Midgar just for a little more space.

Sephiroth watched the morning news intently, well, more like 'late night news,' seeing it was still dark outside, but the clock on his wall _did_ say it was 3:00 A.M. He learned that ShinRa had finally decided to enlighten the people of Midgar of their situation, although they'd 'conveniently' left out the part about mako. That was ShinRa for you. Never tell the people the whole story, just leave them in the dark and let them die if need be. As long as the company and its money is safe, nothing else matters. He'd only agreed to return to work under their employment for Zack's sake. He didn't want his friend fighting on a battlefield with only a bunch of regular troopers and a few chocobo cavalry.

Zack was smart, but, sometimes, things just slipped past him. Sephiroth was the type to observe small details, a trait Zack would do well to learn. The dark-haired man would need the added brain power.

The news hadn't mentioned much on the war, apparently ShinRa hadn't given much detail on anything, and reporters couldn't scrounge up enough to last more than twenty minutes on the subject. Sephiroth was sure the news station would air that same twenty minutes over and over all day until they were positive everyone in Midgar had seen it.

Following the war update, was the 'Wanted Criminals' section. A picture of a dark-haired man with a beard stayed on the screen for at least five minutes as the anchor man announced details of his profile and crime, a serial-rapist. The next shot surprised Sephiroth a bit. A young teenage boy flashed onto the screen, sporting spiky blond hair, and blue eyes like none he'd ever seen before. There was a subscript at the bottom of the page that noted that the picture shown was taken at least a couple of years ago.

_He's gorgeous. How could someone that beautiful commit a crime severe enough to make television? _

The anchor man said his name was Cloud Strife, 5'3, and fifteen years old. Then he told of Cloud's crime.

"Cloud Strife was a wardof the state residing at Midgar Orphanage for nine years. He's said to have murdered a fellow orphan, Matthew Phillips, and assaulted another, Arlex Rainwater. There are witnesses to the crime who say they awoke to muffled shouting, then heard a scream as Strife slashed his victim's abdomen with a blade he'd smuggled into the facility through outside forces. The ambulance hadn't even had time to make it to the crime scene before the murder victim, Phillips, bled to death. The other victim escaped with a few bruised ribs, but has not been hospitalized, nor has he yet testified. The Orphanage's staff says he hasn't spoken much since Strife's attack. Rainwater has given authorities a description of the murder weapon, however."

A man appeared on the screen, holding up a small dagger. "This is a weapon quite similar to the one Strife is supposed to be carrying. The blade itself is tempered steal, and about eleven inches long, and three inches in width. Rainwater says the hilt is white ivory, and has the face of a wolf carved into the hilt. The wolf's teeth are said to be silver-plated."

The man went on to describe how such a weapon could be used, and, according to evidence, how Strife had killed Phillips. Then the screen went back to the blond's picture.

"Strife is being charged with both attempted, and second-degree murder. He escaped the orphanage after the crime. Police say Strife may still have the murder weapon on hand, and could quite possibly attack anyone he sees fit. If you see this criminal, or have information as to his whereabouts, please contact ShinRa Crime Control immediately."

Sephiroth starred at the television for a moment as the news moved on to something about a mass brawl in Wal-Market. That boy. He'd seen that boy escape over the eighteen-foot fence of the orphanage two nights ago. To him, it had seemed as if the blond was frightened. Could the police be wrong? Possibly, they'd been mistaken before through lack of evidence. He'd wondered what other factors were involved that night to require police assistance, now he had his answer.

He checked the clock hanging on the wall above his television. It said it was nearly five o' clock, not yet daylight outside, but no more dark either. All the same, it was just the perfect time to walk to his office without people gawking at him like they always did.

Sephiroth laced up his boots and pulled on his coat, strapping Masamune at his side. He most likely wouldn't need it, but one never knew when disaster could strike.

He left his apartment, locking the door behind him. Sephiroth always preferred to walk to his destinations. Walking calmed him, gave him time to think, much like taking a long hot shower. Most people asked him why he didn't own a car, and he would simply reply that he didn't want one. Sure, he could buy the most expensive cherry-red sports car on the market. Fully loaded, heated air conditioned leather seats, five-disk CD changer, DVD players, the whole works, but he just didn't want one. Another matter that added to his disliking of automobiles was the fact that his enhanced hearing made them almost unbearable. They made such horrid sounds, no matter what model, or how new, all vehicles made that same irritating sound that pained his ears to no end.

As he walked, the sun had fully arisen above the horizon, spreading its light about the city, but not its warmth. Midgar's winters were particularly cold. No snow fell, just cold temperatures and an excess of rain. In fact, clouds hung over the city even as Sephiroth made his way to ShinRa headquarters.

_Already cold out, and it's not even truly winter yet. _

The weather had been tolerable the day before, beautiful actually. The sun shown brightly, and it was a comfortable seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit. To add to yesterday's pleasantries, a soothing breeze had lasted all throughout the day. Midgar's weather changed faster than a menstruating woman's mood.

As Sephiroth rounded a corner, not two miles from his office, he stopped abruptly. A large brown mass lay before him in a pool of its own black blood. The earthly, rotten smell of tainted mako reached his nostrils. Anyone else would have gagged or thrown up, but he was used to the stench, natural, yet nauseating, and, thus, he endured it. He moved closer to the animal, finally able to discern what it was. The large canine, which could easily have stood above his waist, lay belly up with its mouth agape, mako-green eyes still glowing despite its body's inanimation. It looked like it might once have been a pit bull, but the mako had obviously morphed its physical appearance. Now it was more of a shaggy brown wolf than anything. It had unquestionably been mutated. Sephiroth noted its canines, glistening red with blood, not black, red. That could mean only one thing. The pit bull had sank its jaws into the flesh of someone, or something, who's blood wasn't mako infused. He kicked the beast over to expose its wounds, curious as to how its victim had taken it down.

A dagger protruded from its spine. The wielder had obviously plunged it in with quite a bit of strength. He knelt down to pull out the weapon of defense with a gloved hand. Wriggling it free of the clinging bone and tissue, he recognized the handle immediately. A snarling wolf with silver teeth lay embedded in the ivory. The blade, he estimated, would be about eleven inches in length. This was the blade described to Midgar's early morning news watchers just twenty minutes before. This was Cloud Strife's blade, his murder weapon.

_Why would someone leave a decent dagger like this behind? _

He produced a cloth from within his coat, the one he usually kept for cleaning Masamune after minor soiling, and wrapped the bloody blade in it. He'd clean it later, when he had the spare time.

Standing, he searched about for more evidence. Placing the beast back in the position he'd discovered it in, he stood back a few more paces, using his tracking skills to gather evidence.

The scene played out in his mind. The blond had been walking by the alleyway, most likely no less than an hour ago, seeing as the creature's pool of blood hadn't yet dried. Judging by the deep claw marks eight feet away where the creature had propelled itself from the ground with powerful hind legs, it had hurled itself at Strife, fully intent on killing him. He could imagine Strife's small teenage frame falling to the ground upon impact as the creature tore into him with its slashing teeth. Strife had produced the blade from somewhere on his person, and defended himself quite efficiently, driving the dagger deep within his attacker's flesh and bone. He concluded he must have rolled the body off of himself, and stopped to rest a few feet away, where another pool of blood, this one red, had already dried up mostly, being thinner than the dog's mako-tainted, tar-like substance.

He noticed a single crutch lying in the street. Had it belonged to Strife? Curious, he went to pick it up, observing the height adjustments, 5'3 , just as the news report had said. So Strife did injure himself the night he scaled the fence. He'd also fought and defeated this massive beast at his feet with his injury, but why would he leave his crutch?

Judging by the evidence, Strife had lost a lot of blood, but had lived. He'd seen the blond's picture. He didn't look to be very big, so, how did he do it? How did he walk away from this alive, using only a light weapon, with perhaps nothing but a flesh wound?

He dwelled on this for a while. Many solutions rolled around in his head until he settled on was it. That had to be the answer. Some people, albeit a very rare few, could absorb impurified mako into their systems and use it like SOLDIERs used the green liquid's purified form. It made them stronger, faster, all around superior to the average human, just like a SOLDIER. That is if their bodies could take it. These individuals either died of mako-poisoning around seventy-two hours later, or went to ShinRa for help. That help would be the continued injection of the mako's purified form until the tainted substance had worked its way from their systems. All of this, of course, in exchange for either a large sum of gil, or a few years of military service.

Strife's body had absorbed the mako from the beast's saliva, and used it to heal his wounds and his ankle. That's why he'd left his crutch behind. Odd, most bodies didn't absorb mako quite so quickly, much less receive its effects in such a instantaneous manner. Not to mention, there couldn't have been much mako in the beast's saliva alone.

This wasn't good. A supposed killer had just been given superhuman powers. Perfect.

Sephiroth thought on this a while. He noticed the foot prints of blood leading away from the scene. He tried to follow them, but they became lighter, and even more so, as less of the mixture of red and black blood had coated the bottom of Strife's shoe. The prints slowly disappeared, leaving Sephiroth with nothing but a general idea as to where Strife was staying. Hell, he may not actually be _staying_ anywhere. He could be moving from place to could be residing in a hotel under a disguise, or he could be living on the streets. He doubted an escaped orphan would have enough money to pay for proper shelter, so he concluded that Strife was definitely staying on the streets, but in one place, or in a nomadic style, he didn't know.

One thing was for certain. The teen had to be located and taken to ShinRa. He doubted Strife would kill anyone else, seeing as he no longer held a weapon. He reminded himself that the manner in which Strife had slain the pit bull had taken a lot of strength, so, despite his size, his body had, without a doubt, used the mako to boost the output of his muscles. His body must have absorbed it so quickly, just like Sephiroth's did. That's what made Sephiroth so powerful. Sure, he'd be strong naturally, but the mako made him a mortal god.

Perhaps the kid could join SOLDIER. Oh yeah . . . he'd committed murder. ShinRa was not in the practice of admitting criminals. Still, the teen needed at least three months of mako treatments to cure him of the certain death sentence, the tainted mako. Maybe Strife could be cleared of his charges.

Sephiroth suddenly halted in his thoughts. Why did he care what happened to the orphan? What would it matter to him if the blond died of mako poisoning? That was exactly it. He didn't care. It didn't matter. Strife was just an escapee on the run from an unfair trial and a prison sentence. He was just a boy who'd been fatally exposed to impure mako, not unlike several others.

His thoughts continued on the same path for at least fifteen minutes. He'd almost made it to his office now, and would be signing papers and plotting military agendas for the rest of the day. He concluded it was better just to let the boy die. If he was brought into ShinRa, he'd be held and handed over to the police, thus at the mercy of the malicious courts of Midgar. Then he'd most likely be sent to prison. A pretty blond didn't belong behind bars with sexually deprived rapists and serial killers that hadn't seen a woman in years. That was certain. Sephiroth knew that any sound-minded living being would rather be dead than roughly taken by horny uncaring bastards against his/her own will for the rest of their lives.

He arrived at the reception lobby of the eighty-floor building, taking the elevator to his office. Walking in without knocking, he found Zack sleeping face down on his desk, drooling on hopefully unimportant paperwork. The silver-haired man went to his own desk across from Zack's, where, to his utter horror, lay a stack, no, a tower of papers that obscured his vision of his spiky-haired friend across the room. This was going to be a long day.

**88888888**

Cloud had made his way back to the old abandoned car and fallen asleep in the back seat, curled up against the sudden onslaught of cold weather. He'd almost never gotten to sleep. After he'd been bitten last night, an amazing surge of energy had charged him as if he'd drank five Red Bulls.

When he awoke, the energetic feeling he'd had was gone, leaving behind an insufferable feeling of nausea. Not truly nausea. Cloud couldn't explain it. His head felt odd, dizzy, and his chest hurt, as if some strange mass had been planted there. A strange mass that wouldn't leave him be. He shivered uncontrollably. He had nothing but his clothes, and they weren't 'bought' for warmth. It had been a decent day as far as temperature went when he'd stolen them. He now regretted that he'd not taken a sweater too.

His stomach growled, despite the unusual sensations of nausea. Cloud hadn't known it was possible to be nauseous and hungry at the same time. He had an appetite. In fact, he was starving, so he acredited the strange feelings in his stomach to not having any food to eat, or water to drink for forty-eight hours.

He sat up with a groan, clutching his head as a pounding headache made itself known. Memories rushed back into his consciousness. Cloud checked his arm, and almost yelped in glee at what he saw, but remembered his headache. The wound was gone completely. It had fully healed overnight. The blond was dumbfounded.

_How the hell? _

Maybe his being attacked was just a nightmare. A very realistic nightmare. He further examined his arm. Upon closer inspection, he found a few tiny, nearly invisible scars that hadn't been there before. Yes, last night had happened. He remembered how he'd healed faster than normal directly after the incident. That alone had amazed him, but now, he was fully healed as far as external wounds went. He made a quick and grateful prayer to Mother Gaia for sparing his life.

He slowly got out of the car, not wanting to agitate any injuries he'd been unable to see in the darkness. His back was killing him. He must have attained quite a few bruises when the beast barreled into him and knocked him to the ground. He lifted up his shirt. Yep. While his external, therefore more severe, wounds had healed, the minor ones hadn't.

That's okay. I can live with a few bruises.

He smiled proudly when he noticed that his ankle no longer hurt to walk on at all, unable to suppress his delight. Then, his moment of happiness was interrupted when his stomach snarled at him, punctuated by a painful cramp.

Cloud sighed. He needed to find food today. Of that he was certain.

The sun had risen, but clouds hung overhead, not allowing him its warming rays. He hugged himself in an attempt to keep warm. He wasn't able to tell what time of day it was, thanks to, none other, than the very same clouds that kept him from being warm. He cursed them with impressive fervor, adding more swears than even he himself hadn't known he knew. He knew it had to be evening, maybe two? Three P.M.? He'd slept a long time, not arriving back to his shelter until the early hours of morning.

He felt terrible, still tired, but driven by his body's need for food. How to get it without paying? He could steal all the clothes he wanted, which, with the cold, he was tempted to do. However, Midgar had no food market that sold goods off of counters, and on top of that, he didn't know how to cook, so that left him with one option. He'd have to get food from a fast-food place, or a walk in restaurant. Both were impossible.

He pondered this as his body jolted with another violent shiver. He wouldn't sink so low as to beg for it, nor was he willing to dive head first into a dumpster. Knowing his luck, he'd get stuck, and the garbage truck would crush him to bits. No more Cloudy Boy.

A smirk alighted his features as he found a solution. He could steal the money. That would be so much easier than stealing food. Now that his ankle was healed, he was sure he could do it. Picking pockets actually sounded fun as his mind came up with cunning ways to approach his victims.

A loud yell startled him from his thinking. Wheeling around, he spotted a tall man in a red uniform running at him at a surprising speed. He immediately recognized the uniform of the Midgar Police Force.

"Cloud Strife, do not run or I will be persuaded to use force!"

_Use force? How are you gonna do, that if you can't catch me? _

The policeman produced a night stick from his belt, brandishing it threateningly.

"OH SHIT!"

He turned and ran full tilt, in the opposite direction. So, the cops were after him.

He fled into a thick crowd around a street show, where a man was tossing a large purple ball to a donkey, who bounced it from its nose and back to the man. The crowd's cheering turned into disgruntled shouts as Cloud forced himself through, pushing and shoving in his desperation. His heart raced, if he got caught now, his life was over. He'd rather die than be sent to prison and raped, the very thing that he'd killed a human being to avoid. Judging by the crowd's second wave of shouts, the policeman had followed close behind. Cloud was fast for his size, but the policeman was tall and lanky, and an excellent runner. Emerging on the other side of the crowd, he spotted a large green trash can, and ran for it. If he made it before the policeman forced his way through the onlookers, which was difficult because he was bigger than Cloud, lanky or not, then he could hide inside the trash can, providing it was at least half empty.

He flipped up the lid and found nothing inside, and, to his relief, it didn't smell. It must have been new. In a hurry, he let himself fall in headfirst. He landed in an awkward position, his knees resting on his head and his upper body curled into a ball at the bottom.

_How many people are flexible enough to do this? _he wondered.

His position quickly grew uncomfortable as his body struggled to breathe in its compressed state. He had to stay here long enough to ensure the policeman had gone. He'd rather suffocate in a trash can than go to prison.

He lay thus until he could bear it no longer. He decided the policeman had most likely gone, and was ready to get out. One problem. He was undeniably stuck. He tried to move his legs, but found his ass wouldn't let him, as it was already pressed against the walls of the trash can, and couldn't go any further. His arms were pinned between his body and the walls, so he couldn't exactly pull himself up.

"Fuck! This is beautiful . . . absolutely beautiful!!!"

He lay there, vexed, and panting like a pissed bull, then began to rock the trash can back and forth. He didn't exactly feel excited about falling and rolling inside the can, but there was no other way that he could see. Finally, the can fell over, giving him a painful jolt as it thudded to the cement. His back had already been sore. Now it was killing him. He lay there a few minutes, catching his breath.

He definitely needed a disguise, he thought, having no wish to repeat this dilemma, nor any other even remotely resembling it.

**88888888**

It had taken Sephiroth about three hours to complete the mountain of papers on his desk. He'd allowed Zack to take a small nap, since he'd undoubtedly been partying again. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair for a nice stretch.

He was highly annoyed when his secretary skipped in wearing a miniskirt and a red business top with, lo-and-behold, yet another inhumanely-large stack of papers.

She smiled as if paperwork were the greatest thing in the world, and deposited them upon his desk with a heavy thunk. Sephiroth grunted his irritation as she left.

He stared at the imposing pile of paperwork. He'd defeated hundreds of men in battle, some even renowned warriors of great skill, others, well-known assassins, the best of their kind. He'd even fought and defeated the Emperor of Wutai during Wutai War One, and let him keep his life, which he now regretted, but the one thing he could not defeat was this worthy adversary upon his desk, paperwork. He decided to surrender for now and resume to do battle with this stack tomorrow.

Across from him, he watched his friend sleep, and decided it was time to wake him. He went to Zack's side and nudged him slightly, being rewarded with only a weak groan. He shoved harder. This time Zack mumbled some sort of incoherent nonsense that sounded suspiciously like, 'limegreenchocobodildos.' The white-haired man was unsure if it had only been his imagination or not, but he hoped the latter. Annoyed, Sephiroth pulled Zack up from his saliva-soaked desk and shook him.

"Wake up! I'm not signing your ridiculously excessive amount of worthless paperwork too."

Worthless wasn't the word for it. Sephiroth had come to believe that ShinRa Corp. had a special group of fat lazy bastards who did nothing but write up nonsensical paperwork all day just to keep him busy. He was the General, not a secretary. He had even once been forced to fill out a survey to determine his preference in toilet paper patterns and wall tiles for the bathrooms in the lobby.

After being roughly shaken for longer than he could stand, Zack issued a sound of complaint and pushed him away.

"What? Who? Seph! What the HELL are you trying to do, make my brain rattle around in my head like a tambourine?!?"

"That only works if said head has a brain with which to rattle, Zackary."

"Yes, almighty god of sarcasm and assholiness."

"I woke you because you have paperwork. Wet paperwork, might I add."

Zack groaned and trudged over to the soft couch on the far right wall.

"I'll do it tomorrow, I swear. I just want to sleep for now."

Sephiroth contemplated this statement, and devised a wonderful idea.

"Fine. I'll let you go home for the rest of the day. You can do your paperwork tomorrow."

Zack stared at him in disbelief.

"Under two conditions, one, you complete all of it, and, two, you'll complete mine as well." He motioned to the stack on the corner of his own desk.

Zack scowled. "I knew there was a catch, but I accept. It'll all be done tomorrow. Now, I'm off to my beautiful soft bed and all of its fluffy pillows." Zack left with a lazy wave and a yawn.

Sephiroth shook his head, glancing at the papers on his desk. Since Zack said he would do them tomorrow, that left him with no work at all. Taking advantage of this rare moment of free time, he decided to take his leave before someone else arrived with something for him to do.

He didn't want to go out into the streets wearing his famous black coat, seeing as he didn't like idolization, nor did he wish to sign any autographs or get his picture taken. Luckily, he'd come prepared. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out casual clothes he'd kept there for just this occasion. He locked his office door and quickly changed into a pair of fitting straight leg jeans, and a slate-gray button-up shirt. Yes, he loved shirts with buttons. He'd decided long ago that they had the effect of making him seem less military. To complete his disguise, he gathered his hair and placed it beneath a solid black cap. There, no one would notice him as The Great General Sephiroth now.

He left the building and began the walk back to his apartment, moving at a brisk pace. He decided to take the same route as the one he'd taken this morning, just to see if anyone had taken it upon themselves to dispose of the pit bull's carcass. The real reason was to see if Strife was anywhere nearby, but he wasn't about to acknowledge that to himself, especially after he'd struggled to get the blond out of his thoughts all day. He knew the blond had to be in the area. Mako poisoning had to be setting in by now.

Now he was entering a crowd consisting of people leaving from their jobs to return home to their families and many people just out doing some shopping. As large as Midgar was, he quickly noted that it had become far too populated. Maybe it was time to expand? He became increasingly frustrated as more and more civilians nudged passed him or bumped into him. He considered removing his cap to reveal his identity, but decided against it as he passed a billboard that portrayed a large picture of himself with his sword, which he'd left back in his office for obvious reasons.

Clouds still hung low in the sky, looking as if they were ready to burst. Thunder graced the skies in warning. Sephiroth quickened his pace in an attempt to reach his apartment before the heavens released their floodgates.

**88888888**

Cloud crouched against the side of a building. His condition has worsened by quite a bit. His shivering just wouldn't stop, yet his body felt hot. His head pounded mercilessly, and his vision had given to lapsing into fits of blurriness. His stomach demanded food with frequent fits of ceaseless growling, yet he felt that if he did eat, he'd lose it, that is, if he could. Once again, he credited the strange feelings in his abdomen to hunger and dehydration.

After his run-in with the cop, he'd swiped a black beanie hat from an unsuspecting civilian. It covered his blond spikes efficiently, and with it, no one should be able to recognize him easily.

He observed the crowd, searching for a likely candidate to rob. He'd need to choose someone who looked as if they had money. He needed to choose someone in the center of the massive crowd bustling on the sidewalks. He considered a woman who was peering in the window of a dress shop, but decided against it when two little girls made their way to her with smiles on their faces. He decided his victim should be male. Someone who looked as if they had no family to provide for.

His eyes fell upon a tall man in a grey shirt. He knew shirts like that weren't cheap, and the man wore good jeans too, which looked to have large pockets. The bigger the pockets, the easier he'd be able to slip his hand in and out with less actual physical contact. Nor did the man look to be the family type. As an added bonus, he was toward the middle of the crowd, and looked to be lost in thought.

Thunder from above startled him, then he felt a raindrop.

"Dammit . . . " he murmured.

He'd need to have this over with before the clouds unleashed their full arsenal upon him.

Cloud ignored a particularly violent shiver as he commenced his advance and began to follow his choice of victim. He'd have to be fast and discrete.

**88888888**

Sephiroth was lost in thoughts about the war, wondering when he'd be sent off to the front lines, or if the war would even be fought on a physical front at all. So far, all the efforts ShinRa had made was to send over a few Turks to gather information and begin training troops in guerilla warfare and field-aid.

He felt cold droplets of rain on his face. Agitated that he'd not made it home fast enough, he quickened his pace. The rain gradually increased in magnitude until it poured down on him as if the ocean had been levitated above him and dropped.

To say that he was surprised to feel the sensations of a hand in his pocket that wasn't his own would have been an understatement. Then, just as soon as it had come, it was gone, and so was his wallet. He wasn't dumb, but apparently this pickpocket was. He whirled around and spotted a boy with a black hood fleeing into an alley. The idiot even had the audacity to turn to see if he was being pursued. The boy noticed Sephiroth's eyes on him and notably paled a few shades, if it were possible for such a light-skinned person to grow any lighter.

Sephiroth set off at a run, outraged that anyone would dare take his money, even if he had plenty. The actions alone were enough to piss him off.

He rounded the corner in time to see the boy fall to the ground with a cry of pain. He had him now. As he neared, he noticed the boy looked remotely familiar, but dismissed the thought as blue eyes looked up at him, tears visible to Sephiroth even during the rain, obviously fearing the worst. The boy unleashed a shaky tirade of pleas.

"Please, don't hurt me! I . . . I was just hungry! Please! I'll give it back . . ."

The boy held out his wallet as a peace offering. Sephiroth raked his eyes over him. He _was_ thin, too thin. The white-haired man knew that the the hooded boy's clothes likely veiled prominent ribs. They were dirty and the pants he wore had holes in them that resembled claw marks.

The boy then shivered violently and lurched forwards, breathing heavily and clutching his middle. He remained thus, riding out a wave of evident pain. When his shaking relented a little, he looked up into Sephiroth's eyes. It was then that Sephiroth realized the boy's eyes were glowing, the unmistakable glow of mako.

_Cloud Strife? _

He reached forwards and the boy gave an obvious flinch. Sephiroth removed the hat to reveal a soggy mess of yellow spikes. Cloud looked up at him, as if expecting a blow. His illuminated pupils dilated as he struggled to focus on him. Of course, the mako was setting in. The blond had begun to suffer the symptoms of the poisoning.

Sephiroth knew what was happening. He'd fled from Hojo once when he was a child, and missed a mako treatment. That was the first and last time he'd ever done such. Cloud was going through the intense pains of mako withdrawal. Sephiroth remembered how much they'd hurt. He rememebered that was the only time he'd ever actually cried in his life. Gaia, it had hurt so badly. His heart went out to this complete stranger, who was currently experiencing a pain rivaled by no other, a pain he wouldn't wish on his arch nemesis . . . if he had one that is.

Sephiroth had originally planned to let Cloud Strife die instead of turning him in to ShinRa for reasons already discussed, but, actually seeing him now, and in such a pathetic state, he began to revise his plans.

He couldn't turn him in. That was out of the question. He couldn't take him to a regular hospital either, seeing as ShinRa Corp. refused to distribute mako to anyone, not even other companies. He was left with two options, put him out of his misery, or take him back to his apartment.

He actually thought about the former, which didn't surprise him. He was a heartless killer on the battlefield after all. Taking in Cloud's appearance, though, he fervently reprimanded himself. How could he think of such a thing?

_Only one option left then . . . _

The boy had fallen to the ground while he'd pondered his next actions. Leaning down, he assessed Strife's condition as unconscious. As soon as he placed his hand on Cloud's back to pick him up, he noticed that the boy's body temperature was unusually high, even for mako poisoning. He gathered the blond into his arms, and shielded him from the rain as much as he could as Cloud shivered continually. He now began to wish he'd brought his coat.

Sephiroth raced back to his apartment, where he knew he still had some mako treatments left over from the time Zack had become ill, and, as always, had stayed with him until he'd gotten better. Most victims of mako poisoning lasted about two days. Judging from his gathered evidence, Cloud had retracted the poisoning around twelve hours ago, yet his condition seemed to have deteriorated abnormally quickley.

_Just like me. My body absorbs mako like a sponge. _

**88888888**

Cloud was vaguely aware of a warmth surrounding him, even as the cold rain bombarded him. His head continued to ache as if it would never stop. He felt he'd never feel well again. The closer he surfaced to consciousness, the more pain he felt. He fought to remain in the world of the oblivious, a world where he felt no pain. The warmth around him was moving, rocking. His brain barley registered soggy footsteps.

He wanted to know who, or what held him. Was it an angel? Had he died? What was the last thing he remembered? Green eyes. Glowing eyes of the most odd shade of emerald he'd ever seen. They had been amazing and he'd nearly drowned in them.

He remembered feeling afraid. Afraid of what? Oh yeah . . . that big guy in the grey shirt. His ankle had given out from running. It had felt perfectly fine, then he was stricken by a particularly intense ghost pain. Why had it hurt so much? It had felt as if someone had thrust his entire lower leg into the smoldering embers of a blazing furnace. Not only that, but his entire body had become ensnarred in the strangling vines of agony, a pain no words in the English language could describe, but forget the pain. It wasn't as intense now, but it was still there, like a subconcious thought lingering in the back of his mind. What had happened while he'd suffered from the inferno of torture in his mind? The man had looked so angry. Cloud remembered thinking he'd be killed.

All coherent thoughts were washed away as his mind lurched. Why was he in so much pain? Had the man beaten him up? Had the man raped him? Surely he'd remember. Surely rape would not hurt /this/ much.

He whimpered as his head temporarily pounded exceptionally more in magnitude than it had been. Whoever carried him held him closer at this, and uttered some kind of useless comforting nonsense. He couldn't hear the soothing words, but the voice was enough. He was no longer alone.

The pain was slowly returning. He felt it as it escaladed to full power. He saw white as the torture continued on. No, he couldn't be dead. Dead people weren't supposed to feel at all, much less this. Unless of course he'd been sent to hell.

He suddenly noticed that the rain no longer drenched him. Had he been taken indoors? Was his rescuer a policeman? He tried to open his eyes to find out, but as soon as light made its way in, he groaned from an overpowering bolt. He didn't care who held him, as long as they kept talking. He loved that voice. It was so deep and smooth. Not to mention his ear was pressed against its owner's chest, allowing him to feel it's every vibration. The voice continued on, lulling him into a dreamless sleep.

**88888888**

Author Notes:

Hi! It's about bloody time I finished this chapter. Seph and Cloud have finally met, if you can call it that. Sorry about leaving off at a cliff-hanger, you probably all hate me now. I'll get the next chapter posted as soon as possible. I don't have much time to write, what with school, and band practice and such. Not to mention, I don't have computer access every first and third weekend of the month. Sucks huh?

"I hope you like this chapter. I know I do. "

This chapter has been updated as of 12-10-08.


	4. Breaking Point

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any Sqaure Enix related indica.

WARNINGS: Suicidal Themes, Angst

**Chapter 4**

**Breaking Point**

Sephiroth hastened through the door to his apartment, his wet clothes sticking to his flesh and drenching everything in the nearby radius. The feverish body in his arms was just as equally soaked. Sephiroth kicked off his boots then lay Cloud on the sofa, and proceeded to clean him up by drying off the spiky hair with a fluffy blue towel he'd retrieved from his bathroom.

He removed the boy's drenched shirt, temporarily ignoring the bruises marring the smooth white skin. There were more pressing matters to be taken care of. Sephiroth shook his head at the visible ribs. Had he eaten _once_ since his escape? He then removed the boy's boots, which he noted were standard ShinRa issue. Where had he gotten those? He practically poured the water out of them. Next, off came the dripping socks. He stopped there, and disappeared into his bedroom. Upon emergence, he had a thick blanket in hand.

He removed the shivering blond's wet jeans carefully, deciding to allow the teen his remaining dignity and just left the soaked boxers alone. Sephiroth knew that he had never seen a body in such poor health. Where the blond's skin should have been smooth and milky, it seemed lifeless and dull, as if he had not been allowed outside much. His soaked hair was dirty and bland. The body looked to be lithe and agile, sporting decent musculature for a younger man . . . but . . .

The blond's thinness was hard to ignore; it was the most prominent mallady that struck out at the white-haired man. Sephiroth knew that emaciation of this level did not come from just a few days without food. This had been going on for a long time. His face was leaner than was necessary and his ribs and collarbone were defined along his abdomen and chest. The picture he'd seen on television was an old one, although Cloud hadn't aged much. He'd just lost the obvious boyish facial features, and gained the more appealing look of a young man. Sephiroth noticed with much annoyance at himself that he'd been staring adamantly and covered the blond's trembling body in the thick blanket.

The orphanage had obviously neglected Cloud's health. Sephiroth found himself wondering why he hadn't fled sooner. Maybe he had no where else to go. Maybe he'd tried and failed. This track of thought led him to thoughts of Cloud's crime. He studied the delirious figure squirming in pain on his couch. He didn't seem capable of murder. Nor did he seem able to kill a snarling mako-enhanced beast over twice his size either. Sephiroth knew from experience that every living creature on The Planet had a motive behind every action. What had motivated Strife to make such radical decisions?

He brushed the back of his hand across the sweating forehead. Even though the blond's skin was clammy from exposure to the cold rain, Sephiroth could feel the burning heat through the sticky sheen of sweat.

_If this fever doesn't abate soon, he'll suffer brain damage._

_What now? Is it safe to just go ahead and give him an injection, or should I wait? _

_Wait for what? His condition to worsen!?_

A distressed whimper from the shaking figure on the sofa made up his mind for him. Sephiroth went to his bedroom, and opened an ornate trunk at the foot of his king-sized bed. He fumbled through miscellaneous items, and finally came up victorious. In his hands were six small green vials, each one a premeasured dosage of pure, glowing mako and six separately packaged injection needles to go with them. He'd known these would come in handy some day, but certainly hadn't expected he'd be using them on a suspected murderer.

He returned to the blond's side to find that he'd curled into the corner of the sofa and was no longer shivering from the cold, but, instead, shaking intermittently from the internal damage caused by the toxic properties of impure mako. Mako poisoning meant the boy's body had absorbed more than it could handle, and _impure_ mako at that. He would be ill long after his recovery, if he recovered at all.

The human body used mako like fuel. It absorbed it and turned it into extra energy to create more strength, speed, and the like. The body only needs small amounts at a time. Normally, the excess mako lies dormant in the body's blood stream, as long as there is an ample supply of the substance. Having only one exposure, Cloud's body had presumed there would be no more, thus it had begun to absorb the extra as well as the initial dosage, trying to get as much from the single exposure as possible.

When the body absorbs too much mako, the blood becomes saturated as more and more mako particles attach themselves to platelets, then the body's immune system takes action. White blood cells eat the red blood cells to which the mako is synthesized. The white blood cells become infected by the mako, and then begin annihilating healthy cells as well, causing the high temperature, and a loss of functional blood units.

In short, Cloud's immune system was slowly destroying his living tissues. If the body absorbs too little mako, the above reaction takes place. If the body receives too much, you get pretty much the same scenario. So, the wise thing to do, would be to never touch the stuff to begin with.

_Oh, I suppose he _wanted _to be attacked by a vicious animal?_ Sephiroth thought sarcastically.

The pain is induced when the infected cells run rampant in the body. As they destroy other cells, they release a chemical by the name of omnialgea. Omnialgea translated to English from Latin means 'all pain,' and that's exactly what it does. The chemical bombards the nervous system with tiny cells that attach themselves to the central nervous center in the brain. The cells produce minute electric shocks, fooling the brain into believing the body should be in pain, when it truly isn't. When the brain recieves the electrtic shocks, it sends every nerve ending in the body screaming into over time.

Yes, Sephiroth had taken a required three-day course before being allowed into SOLDIER himself. It was mandatory for all candidates.

Sephiroth gently pried Cloud from his shaky ball, and pinned one arm down with his elbow as the boy struggled to bring it back under the blanket. He may have been strong enough to drive a dagger through a creature's spine yesterday, but not now. In fact, he stopped struggling completely after such a simple action had exhausted him. Sephiroth sanitized the crook of his elbow with an alcohol swab, and prepared the needle.

He'd decided to give him only half of the advised dosage, seeing he didn't weigh all that much. After making sure there were no air bubbles in the syringe, he slowly slid it into the visible blue vein, and watched as the plunger pushed the thick green liquid into the pale arm.

Now, there was nothing left but to wait. Sephiroth knew Cloud's recovery would likely be slow, considering his case had been the worst he'd ever seen. For now, Cloud needed rest, and lots of it.

As he was placing the syringe back into its package, Sephiroth realized he was being watched. He looked up into a pair of burning blue eyes, staring right back into his. He thought he could see the damage there, the pain. The portals gave no sign of awareness, only gazed at him as if Strife had not yet realized his eyes were, in fact, open. The blond gave a sharp shudder and the eyes squeezed shut with a whimper. They did not reopen as the teen resettled himself into what looked to be a sleeping position.

Sephiroth crouched there against the arm of the sofa for a moment. There were no real thoughts in his head, only the intense blue. He closed his own emerald eyes and made sure the blond was comfortable, then left to his own bedroom for a shower and to change into some dry clothes.

It wasn't until he'd been standing in the shower over fifteen minutes that he realized he'd forgotten to pick up his wallet. He'd been in a rush. He sighed. He could always buy another one. He wasn't one for credit cards, so he wouldn't have to worry there. Anyone who found a wallet with his licenses and ShinRa key cards would either keep it for a personal General Sephiroth shrine, sell it on E-bay, or return it in hopes of actually getting to meet the General himself.

He'd subconsciously been searching for Cloud Strife, not that he'd ever admit it to himself, but the blond had found him instead, in an ironic way at that.

_What possessed him to choose me of all people? _

_Should I tell Zack I have him?_

_Nah . . . not yet anyway. _

**88888888**

The first thing that came to Cloud's thoughts when he awoke, was that he was lying on something soft, and, on top of that, he was warm. He remembered being carried by someone he couldn't see, but to where? He didn't want to open his eyes, too afraid to find out where he'd been taken to. Instead, he burrowed deeper into the comforting warmth, and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. He knew he wasn't back at the orphanage, the beds there weren't this soft, nor the blankets this warm.

He'd fully intended on drifting back into his restful slumber, but the sound of a door opening and closing caught his attention. Cloud held his breath and strained his ears to hear the sound of the culprit's footsteps, but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hear anything. Maybe he'd only imagined it. Remembering the last time he'd heard sounds in the night and dismissed them as his imagination, he snapped his eyes open. As pain struck him full force between the eyes, he moaned pitifully. He'd opened them a little too fast, and, unfortunately, it wasn't night, or at least not in here, as a blinding light had, well, blinded him.

He heard a slight shuffle behind him, and composed himself before trying to see who it was. He rolled over to find a man sitting across from him in an armchair. Cloud gasped. This man's body ultimately defined the word 'power'. He wore boots with the red diamonds on the bottoms, very much like his own, and leather pants that were fitted onto him perfectly. Cloud's eyes wandered further up to find a black belt with some sort of gold-plated insignia he'd never seen before. The man wore an impressive black leather coat, left open to allow the display of a well-muscled chest. The true frosting on the cake, was his long white hair which flowed over the man's shoulders and down to his waist like a waterfall of liquid silk. Hair like that on any other man would have looked effeminate, but on this man, it only added more prowess to his already intimidating image.

The man's eyes were closed, as if he were deep in thought. Cloud shifted, making ample noise to rouse him, but he still showed no sign of awareness. Maybe he was sleeping? Cloud considered this. If the man was sleeping, perhaps he could sneak out and back to the streets while he still had the chance. Cloud sat up, but that's as far as he got. He stopped, realizing his body no longer felt as if it were falling apart. A little sore yes, but he could tolerate that. Had the intimidating man done this? Why? Why would anyone bother doing something for him? Why would anyone bother helping a worthless nobody?

Cloud sat there on the edge of the sofa, thoughts wrought with confusion brought on by the man's actions. A smooth, familiar voice broke his reverie.

"You're awake." It was a flat statement, nothing more.

Cloud looked up, only to lock eyes with the same green he'd seen before he'd lost consciousness. He simply stared for a moment, when finally he broke the contact, unable to hold the overpowering gaze any longer.

**88888888**

Sephiroth watched the blond as his blue eyes flitted to his own hands. He'd been expecting the first words out of him to something along the lines of "_The_ General Sephiroth?! Holy shit!" but received a surprise when, instead, he asked a single question, no visible excitement on his face at all. In fact, he seemed rather frightened, as if afraid Sephiroth would rise from his chair and strike him down at any moment. The boy's demeanor reminded him somewhat of a beaten and wounded dog.

"Wh . . . Where am I? " The voice shook with a smothering lack of confidence, and Cloud never once turned his gaze from his hands, which were wrung nervously in his lap.

"This is my apartment," was all he offered, assuming the boy knew who he was.

Cloud considered this for a moment as he eyed Sephiroth nervously.

"Who are you?"

This statement puzzled Sephiroth greatly. He'd never heard of The Great General Sephiroth!? The boy hadn't seen a single overly-sized billboard!? No dramatic television advertisements!? No eight page magazine articles? No thirteen minute radio announcements!? Holy crap! What kind of isolation did the orphanage force their charges into!?

"You don't know?" Sephiroth just had to make sure he'd actually heard that question correctly.

"A . . . are you from the police?" Cloud looked up with an unreadable expression. Fear maybe?

Sephiroth didn't know what to think about this. He'd never met anyone who didn't already think they knew him just because they'd seen or heard of him in the media. Maybe . . . this could go actually go somewhere?

_This? What 'this'?_ Sephiroth reprimanded himself. The boy didn't even know he was homosexual, and most likely wouldn't like the idea of being alone in an apartment with a gay man who could easily overpower him, not that Sephiroth would do such a thing. He believed, that if he couldn't earn sex, then he didn't deserve it. The boy was too young anyway. The news had said fifteen. Sephiroth was a full thirteen years older. Cloud would probably feel repulsed by the idea, so he pushed it aside.

"No, I'm from ShinRa Inc. My name is Sephiroth." He'd drop the bomb concerning his rank in ShinRa later. He rather enjoyed talking to someone who didn't know of all the great things he'd done in Wutai War One, or how frightening he could be with his Masamune in hand.

"I've heard of ShinRa, but I don't know exactly what it is," Cloud admitted and drooped his head as if waiting to be laughed at.

Sephiroth ran this through his mind. The boy didn't even know what ShinRa Inc. was, much less what they did. That meant he most likely wouldn't know what mako was either.

"Tell me Strife, you were wounded a few days ago, were you not?" At the odd look on the blond's face he added, "Yes, a few days ago. You've been out for seventy-two hours now."

Cloud starred at him. Three days? Never mind that. No one had witnessed the dog's attack. That he was positive of. Besides, if this man had seen his attack, why hadn't he helped?

He looked up into the man's, Sephiroth's, eyes for a brief moment, then lowered his gaze to the man's left hand, resting on the chair's arm. Suspicion was quite evident in his glowing blue eyes.

"How do you know my name? What makes you think I was wounded?" Cloud began to worry for his safety. How much did this man actually know, and how did he find out?

"I know your name from a news broadcast. They aired your picture, basic information, and . . . one more thing, which I wish to discuss with you at another time. As far as knowing of your wounds, it's a long story. To put it short, I had a sufficient amount of evidence. I found the pit bull and your dagger. The dog bit you, did it not?"

He reached down, intending to check his boots for the white-handled blade, but stopped when he noticed one disturbing detail. He wore no boots . . . or pants . . . or shirt . . . all he had on were his navy blue boxer shorts, which were still damp. They stuck to his flesh like tights. On top of that, he was sitting less than ten feet away from this man, who made him feel nervous beyond comprehension when he'd thought he _had_ clothes on. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and covered himself with the blanket he'd been provided with. He supposed his clothes had been wet, so this man had removed them. This brought on a wave of confusion. Again. Why would this man help him? What had the man done to him whilst undressing him? He didn't think he'd been molested, surely he'd feel some kind of after effects.

Sephiroth noticed Cloud's fruitless searching, and motioned to a small dark-wood table beside the couch. There, clean of the black blood it had previously been veiled in, lay his, or, honestly, Arlex's dagger. It's blade gleamed as if the man had actually taken the time to polish it.

Cloud didn't reach for it. Maybe the man had left it there as a way of saying, without words, that he meant no harm. Cloud eyed him shrewdly. He didn't seem to be armed, but, even if he wasn't, he could still likely restrain Cloud long enough to wrest the blade away. He dropped the subject, and, instead of dwelling on the matter, studied the man's previous words.

The orphanage actually had a picture of him? This man knew of his crime? He was right then. News of what he had done had spread fast, especially if his picture was being shown on television. What would he do to him? Turn him in? Interrogate him? What else did he know? His motive for killing Matthew? What if this man wanted the same thing?

"Why did you bring me here?"

"I brought you here because I have a proposition for you, one that most boys your age would kill for."

"Proposition?" Cloud's eyes darkened with suspicion. "Like what?"

"Did the dog bite you?" Sephiroth spoke louder this time, and with more demand, regretting it when Cloud visibly flinched.

"Yeah . . . it . . . did, but that healed almost instantly, so what does it matter now?"

The fact that this man knew so much about him already unnerved Cloud slightly. He reminded himself of his philosophy that had kept him alive for so long. Never trust anyone. No matter what. Especially not this man, whose very presence made him wish for nothing more than to bolt out of the room and to a safer location.

"It matters more than you think. You got sick afterwards. Given you don't know the significance of your attack, I take it you don't know what made you ill either."

Cloud couldn't discern where the man was going with this line of conversation, but decided it wouldn't hurt to go along. He'd said he wasn't with the police after all.

_How do I know that? I'm just going to take his word for it? Hah, fat chance! _

Sephiroth saw the hesitation in the blue eyes as Cloud slowly shook his head, shifting his gaze from his hands in his lap to Sephiroth, regarding him cautiously the whole time. The blond had changed from submissive behavior to that of defense at the drop of a hat.

"Tell me Strife, do you know what mako is?"

Cloud shook his head again.

"Mako is a substance drawn from deep within The Planet by ShinRa Inc. ShinRa purifies it so it may be used to provide Midgar, and many other locations, with power."

The orphanage hadn't had mako energy to provide them with light. They'd always just used candles and the like, but Cloud had seen the bright, glowing street lamps outside the Sleep Hall's window. He'd always wondered what magic they possessed to illuminate the dark streets of Midgar so well.

Sephiroth continued.

"That's not all mako is used for. Not only does ShinRa supply Midgar with power, but it provides Midgar with military protection. Mako comes into play in this aspect as well. ShinRa's main scientist, Professor Hojo, invented a way to make mako safe for the human body before he died. Mako makes a person faster, stronger, more durable, it heightens all five senses, and even induces a sixth. It speeds up healing to an inhuman level, and, in some cases, makes people smarter if injected into the blood stream of any living creature, but mako is only safe in the body if it has been treated and prepared for said purposes. ShinRa runs their soldiers through hard training and testing, and if they deem one worthy, he is injected with mako and given the rank of SOLDIER."

"Do you know how to distinguish a SOLDIER who has been injected with mako from a normal man?"

"Uhh . . . " Cloud had never seen a SOLDIER before, or at least he didn't think so. Not wanting to allay this to the man across from him, he replied, "No, I don't."

"Mako makes any living creature's eyes glow. Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

Sephiroth paused to let the information he'd lain out sink in.

Cloud starred in disbelief as his mind raced with the overload of new knowledge. His eyes glowed. The white-haired man's emerald eyes glowed as well. Sephiroth said he was with ShinRa, so that meant he'd been given mako, which made _his_ eyes glow. Had he, Cloud, been injected with mako too?

He reflected back on the way he'd healed almost instantly after being wounded, how his ankle had become stable enough to walk on, how he'd been given an indescribable boost of energy that had allowed him the strength to drive his dagger home and land a killing blow. He remembered how his eyes had guided him through the late night darkness as if it were morning. He remembered how they'd glowed in the shop window. Realization dawned in his mind.

"ShinRa injects SOLDIERs with mako?"

Sephiroth affirmed this with one simple nod.

"You're trying to tell me I've been injected with mako?"

"Not, 'injected' necessarily, but you have been exposed. If you'll remember, I told you the dog's attack was more significant that you believe? When I found its carcass, I knew from several telltale signs that it had mako in its blood stream. I knew from finding blood that it had bitten someone. Once I found your weapon, which had been broadcasted on television the same day, I knew that the 'someone' in question had to be you. I also found a discarded crutch that appeared to belong to you as well. You didn't need it anymore because your body had healed quickly after being bitten. Am I right?"

This man amazed him. He was intelligent enough to gain all of this information merely by observing evidence left behind on the scene? Now that was amazing.

"Then the dog passed mako on to me when it bit me?"

Sephiroth nodded again.

That was it then. The dog had absorbed mako from some unknown source, and passed it on into Cloud's blood stream when it had bitten him. That's why his wounds had healed so quickly. That's why he had experienced such a dramatic boost of energy.

Sephiroth knew by the look on the boy's face that he had put two and two together and come up with the solution. Now, to tell him why he was sick, and then . . . well, he hadn't really planned that far ahead yet.

"Now that you know this, it's time I told you of the disadvantages of being exposed to mako."

Cloud's eyes darted from the floor and up to his eyes, as if he'd temporarily forgotten where he was.

"Mako is a very complex substance. If one is exposed to too much, he becomes what is referred to as 'mako poisoned.' The symptoms of mako poisoning are incoherency, unconsciousness, high fever, cold sweats, nausea, and fits of blurred vision."

Dread settled over Cloud as the list of symptoms became slightly familiar.

Sephiroth appraised the boy's silent demeanor before continuing.

"I see you've already figured it out. While your body hadn't absorbed too much, you were still poisoned. You see. The body becomes . . . addicted to mako, in a way. It begins to rely on the extra boost of strength, and the heightened abilities. As the body slowly uses up its supply of mako, it goes into what is called 'mako withdrawal.' Mako withdrawal is an occurrence where there is too little mako in the bloodstream, yet the body still absorbs what is left all at once, thinking it can gain more through taking it all. Mako withdrawal has roughly the same affects as mako poisoning. Do you follow?"

Cloud remained silent for a moment, contemplating the new revelation.

"That's what happened to me. I went into mako withdrawal, then when I . . . " Cloud stopped. Did this man know how he'd tried to rob the man in the grey shirt and black hat?

His thoughts were interrupted by a slight chuckle from the other man.

"I know what you're thinking. Cloud, I am the very same man you so graciously tried pickpocket. You're quite the lucky one. If you had been anyone else, you'd most likely be dead, and if I had been anyone else, you'd have died of the mako withdrawalby nightfall."

Cloud regarded him with the look of one who'd been thoroughly discombobulated. What was he talking about?

"Cloud. There is only one cure for mako withdrawal, and that is more mako. I brought you back here, and administered the cure. I've done so twice thus far. Your body absorbs it abnormally quickley. You will live, but there is one problem. The only place to get mako is from the laboratory at ShinRa Headquarters. Do you see where this is going?"

Cloud was momentarily stunned. This man had cared enough for him to save his life? He didn't understand. Why? Why would anyone care about a nobody such as himself? Maybe this man wanted something in return, something he'd already killed another person to avoid. His heart pounded in his chest rapidly.

"Cloud, you'll have to continue mako treatments for the rest of your life, or die. Do you understand?"

Cloud simply starred at him with disbelief. He was going to die?

"My proposition, Cloud, is to allow you to join SOLDIER. To do so, you'll have to first undergo basic military training, then work your way up from there. You'll have to pass the SEE, SOLDIER Entrance Exam, but you'll be receiving mako injections on a weekly basis, due to your unique situation. That should give you a leg up on the other cadets. Well . . . ?"

"J . . . join the military?" Sephiroth watched as Cloud's eyes widened with an implacable emotion.

Cloud shuddered at the thought of being around men, most likely all bigger than himself, twenty-four-seven every day of the week. His past experiences had made him more than skiddish around other males. He imagined himself showering with other jeering teens, imagined having to sleep in barracks full of sexually active, hormonal teenagers. Images of Matthew and Arlex flashed through his head. He remembered the feeling of being held down by Arlex as Matthew unzipped his fly . . . preparing to . . . to . . .

He shook his head frantically. No. Never again.

"I . . . I can't join the military."

"Why not?" Sephiroth questioned. The anxiety in the boy's trembling voice surprised him, and did not go unnoticed.

"I . . . I just can't."

"Cloud, I'm sure you've guessed by now that I know of your crime." This was the only reason Sephiroth could come up with as to why Cloud was fearful of joining ShinRa. He was afraid of facing the sentence for what he had done.

Cloud had feared as much. If this man knew of his murder, why was he helping him? It had to be a trick. His eyes skimmed the room for an escape. Unfortunately, the white-haired man sat between him and the door that appeared to be the only visible exit. What now? Should he come out and tell the man why he'd murdered Matthew? Should he tell him why he was currently shaking with an emotion akin to terror? Should he tell this complete stranger why he was afraid to join the military? He longed to be some place else, any place else but here . . . or back at the orphanage . . . or in prison. He didn't want to join ShinRa, he'd just go through the same thing there again, and he may not be as lucky this time. His assailant might actually succeed. His innocence might be stolen by someone he didn't want.

He considered his choices. He'd die if he didn't trust this man. His body needed this . . . mako. Could he possibly get it from somewhere else? He doubted it. The man had said it could only be attained from the laboratories of ShinRa Inc. Was he lying? Why would he lie?

Cloud didn't know what to think anymore. His mind raced with unanswered questions, questions he so desperately wished would just go away. Ignorance, as they say, was truly bliss. He'd have to accept this man's offer. He'd have to trust Sephiroth in order to keep his promise to himself. He'd take whatever sick prank fate threw at him. He would survive The Planet's cruel trials of strength and will on his own. He didn't need anyone's help . . . right? His judgment had begun to falter and his weakness had begun to leak through his crumbling facade. He was stuck with a decision he didn't want to make, yet knew he had to. His conscience conflicted with itself. Go against his principles and trust this Sephiroth, or disregard his need to live? He was torn between those two decisions. Not knowing what to do, he did the only thing his mind would allow at the moment. He wept. He didn't care if someone was watching. He'd forgotten Sephiroth's presence. He'd forgotten where he was. God he was scared, so scared. The fear wracked his mind to the point when he couldn't even remember what he was afraid of.

**88888888**

Sephiroth watched as the boy suffered what seemed to be a mental break down. He was no expert on human sociology, seeing as he was as introverted as a snail, but something was wrong . . . terribly wrong. Cloud's knuckles grew white as his fingers dug into his own scalp. He'd begun to shake violently. What was going on in that head of his? A lone tear fell to the ground between the blond's feet, accompanied by a single quick intake of breath. Cloud was _crying?_ Why?

Sephiroth had little to no experience in comforting people. Hell, the only person he'd ever truly cared to comfort was Zack, but Zack had never broken down like this. He had once been a little upset after he'd caught his girlfriend, Aeris, with another man, but he hadn't reacted to this extreme. What was he supposed to do? He didn't even know why Cloud was so upset. That was it. The first step to fixing something broken was to determine the source of the problem. The first step to comforting Cloud, was to find out what was wrong.

Sephiroth inched forward, unsure of his actions and placed a hand on Cloud's shaking shoulder. The blond jerked away with a slight yelp as if his touch had burned.

He let the boy back away as much as he would. He didn't want to be touched, so Sephiroth would settle for verbal condolences.

"Strife? Cloud?" He waited for a reaction. The blond didn't seem to hear him at all. He was beginning to worry. Should he call Zack? Zack was good with people. Everyone _loved_ Zack and his up beat nature. Zack possessed that certain charismatic personality that made people feel as if they'd known him their entire lives. If Zack had the patience to worm his way into the icy General's friendship, he could do anything, but Sephiroth didn't want to involve Zack in this. Cloud was wanted for murder, and, even with his high military ranking, he could easily be charged with assisting a criminal.

Sephiroth had always been an expert at predicting his opponent's next move on a battle field, but he was completely unprepared for what Strife did next. The boy bolted from the couch and fled to the nearest door, which just happened to be the kitchen. Sephiroth sat in the chair, unsure of what to do and puzzled by the boy's actions. An alarm sounded in his head as he heard the sounds of someone rattling through a silverware drawer.

He sprang to his feet in an instant, knowing what he'd find even before he found it. He rounded the bar to find the blond sitting in a corner with a butcher knife in his hands. He froze as the boy spoke, voice dripping with fear.

"Stop . . . just leave me alone. Please, just go away. This is what I want."

Sephiroth knelt before Cloud, now more apprehensive than ever. What to do? Surely the boy wouldn't, . . . would he? He didn't care to find out. He had to get the blade away from him. Not wanting to resort to physical contact, which would likely hurt the boy, he decided first to try talking . . . not one of Sephiroth's strong points.

"Cloud . . . put the knife down . . . you're young, you have a whole life ahead of you."

The blond was shaking now, and clutching the blade to his chest as if it were life itself.

"A whole life of this . . . too much . . . I can't take it. No . . . this is what I want. Please, just go. Let me end it . . . This is what I want."

Cloud's head shook as his body rocked slightly. His skin glistened with an all new coat of sweat.

"No Cloud, it isn't." He refrained from reaching out, remembering Cloud's reaction to his last attempt at comforting him via physical contact.

"How do you know this isn't what I want? What I need? You haven't lived my life. You aren't trapped in this endless nightmare. Please . . . don't make me suffer any longer."

"Suffer what?" He didn't even recognize his own voice. It flowed from his vocal chords softer and . . . sweeter than ever before. He was glad for its sudden, yet welcome change.

Cloud hesitated before answering in a whisper, barely audible, even to Sephiroth's enhanced hearing.

"What he did . . . what they did. Don't make me . . . I'll just die anyway. Let me make it quick."

"Cloud . . . who is 'he'? Who are 'they'?"

Cloud buried his face in his knees.

_Okay. Let's try another question, shall we? _

"Cloud . . . don't make you do what?"

The blond lifted his head to reveal pitifully reddened eyes.

"I . . . I c-can't . . . join the army."

"Why not?"

Cloud simply shook his head, refusing to give up more information. Sephiroth waited patiently. He might not be a psychiatrist, but patience was one thing he had plentiful amounts of.

Cloud stayed in the corner, rocking and shaking with his sobs. What had happened to this boy to damage him so? Who had done it? Sephiroth observed him cautiously, ready to act if the blond tried another unexpected stunt. The blond's quivering slowed, as did his wrenching sobs. As his breathing evened out, he lifted his head from his knees and Sephiroth found himself being studied by watery blue eyes. Just as Sephiroth thought he'd made it out of the danger zone and had lowered the majority of his guard, Cloud lifted the blade and drew it across his wrist in one quick movement, slicing his radial vein. Blood began to flow to the floor.

_Ngah! Shit!_

Sephiroth darted forward, seized the boy's uninjured hand, and squeezed his wrist, forcing him to drop the knife with a clang to the tiled floor. He wrapped his arms around the blond like a straight jacket, careful not to grip too hard, for fear of harming Cloud while trying to keep him from harming himself.

Cloud panicked at being physically restrained and began pleading to be released, bucking and kicking like a madman. Sephiroth was just as stunned by his own actions as the blond, but knew he'd acted accordingly. Cloud had to be restrained, or else he'd hurt himself again, or worse, kill himself even.

Sephiroth wrestled the blond to his bedroom, not missing how he began to struggle even harder at the realization of where he was. Sephiroth was the most powerful man in the military, yet this boy almost slipped from his grasp out of mere desperation to escape on several tries. Sephiroth grew wary of fighting the added strength of the boy's legs, and decided to pick him up. Once in his arms, Cloud flailed just as determinedly, if not more, but Sephiroth held on. He lay Cloud on the bed, and lay beside him, holding him in position, his goal being to hold the blond there on the bed until he fell asleep, or at least calmed down.

Unfortunately, sleep was the last thing on Cloud's mind. All he could think about was escape. He began to plead desperately.

"Please don't, please. . . . Please no." A new wave of tears began.

"Don't what?" Sephiroth asked in as comforting a voice as he could muster while straining every muscle in his body to keep the blond there.

"Don't . . . don't hurt me please."

This statement bothered Sephiroth immensely. It brought him back to his former question. What had happened to this boy to instill fear of this measure into him? What was the boy afraid of? Him? Sephiroth meant no harm at all in his actions, but apparently Cloud thought so.

"Shhh . . . Cloud, I'm not going to hurt you. Settle down before you hurt yourself . . . _again_."

Blood darkened Sephiroth's black sheets as Cloud struggled. The blond's attempts at fleeing became weaker and weaker as he lost more blood. He calmed a bit, but Sephiroth wasn't sure if his words had actually penetrated Cloud's panicking skull, or the blood loss had taken its toll. He'd have to stop the flow of red before Cloud lost too much. Mako could take care of closing wounds, but the bleeding of the vein had to be slowed first.

Sephiroth stroked the boy's blond spikes, trying to calm him down more so he could apply proper bandages to the self-inflicted wound, which still bled freely. Cloud's hair was just as feathery and soft as it looked. Sephiroth caught himself imagining how it would look clean, and nearly slapped himself. He would have, if not for the trembling, over-heated body next to him.

**88888888**

Cloud faltered slightly and relaxed his quivering muscles as Sephiroth ran long fingers slowly through his hair. He couldn't think. Why did he feel so tired? The white-haired man's warmth barely registered in his exhausted mind. He could no longer struggle, not that he wanted to. He couldn't even remember what he'd been trying to get away from, much less why. At the moment, all he could do was focus on the skilled fingers sifting through his hair. He'd never been petted like this before, and it felt so good. He didn't even stop to question why the man cared to comfort him. He just let himself enjoy the caresses, and focused on the man's deep, even breathing, as opposed to his own shallow sporadic heaves. He leaned into the man's touch and slowed his own breaths to match the ones behind him.

**88888888**

Sephiroth continued his ministrations, and focused on lying still, so as not to startle the blond in his arms. He felt Cloud's breathing slow and even out. They became deeper, and he'd stopped shaking altogether. He was positive the boy had fallen asleep . . . or passed out from blood loss.

He ceased his actions, untangled himself from the blond's side, and covered him with the soft black comforter. He left to his bathroom, returning moments later with bandages and disinfectant.

He pulled up a chair from a corner, and sat at his bedside, observing the sleeping figure. He ran through the previous events in his head. What exactly had just happened? Why would anyone wish to take their own life? Perhaps he'd never understand.

He pressed a cold cloth to Cloud's bleeding wrist to stifle the blood flow.

What did Cloud mean by the things he'd said? He'd said he was suffering, and wished to end it. Suffering from what? Physical pain? Surely the boy would have resorted to such measures earlier instead of pulling through this far if that were the case.

Who was 'he'? Who were 'they'? What had they done to Cloud to put him in such mental torment? Why had the boy pleaded for Sephiroth not to harm him, when all he'd wanted was to help? Sephiroth wanted to help him overcome the obstacle of his mako poisoning. Sephiroth wanted to learn if he was guilty of his crime, or innocent. He wanted to know, if Cloud had murdered, then why?

The bleeding had slowed enough to allow Sephiroth to apply the bandages. He wrapped them around the boy's wrist tightly, but not so that they cut off blood flow completely.

So many questions raced through his mind, driving him mad. Finally, he decided to work on one at a time. What connections did Cloud's crime have with his mental breakdown? Perhaps he'd had an episode like today's and killed in a blind craze. Sephiroth doubted it. The boy had seemed perfectly fine, if not a bit jumpy, but still sane, before he'd set him off. Sephiroth had said something about joining the military. That had been the turning point of the conversation. Cloud had panicked like a wounded animal. What was so frightening about joining ShinRa? What would scare Strife to the point he'd rather face death? The only thing Sephiroth could come up with, was pain of some sort. Suffering, like Cloud had said as he had crouched in the kitchen floor, holding the knife.

That brought him to another previously posed question. What did Cloud mean by 'suffering'? He'd already ruled out physical pain. That left mental pain. The root of the mind's suffering usually began with fear. Fear of what?

A headache had crept into Sephiroth's mind as he tried to understand this enigma that had made itself known via Cloud Strife. Rising from his chair, he decided to question Cloud later. He'd ask what the boy was so afraid of. He'd ask why. He would find all of his answers.

**88888888**

Author Notes:

Sorry it took so long to post this chapter. I've had it finished for about five days now, but my dad forgot to pay the internet bill, and it takes them forever to turn it back on. Therefore, I couldn't post it as soon as I'd completed it, like I wanted. Instead, I had to wait until fall break was over, then post it at school. I'll probably get detention or something if my teacher finds out I'm not researching for my project, but that's a risk I'm willing to take to get this up ASAP because I love to know what you guys think, nor do I want to lose your interest by forcing you to wait an eternity between each chapter.

Also, I've changed a few MINOR details in chapters one through three. If something doesn't make sense, chances are, I've added, or rewritten something in an earlier chapter that makes it make sense, but I'm sure that won't be a problem. Like I said, they are only MINOR details, like a new paragraph here and there. You may not notice, but I'm a perfectionist, so, naturally, I did. Therefore, I had to fix the little quirks because they slowly drove me insane.

I've risked detention and a strict reprimand in order to get this story to you. The least you can do to thank is send me lots of reviews! Constructive criticism is welcomed as well.

This chapter has been updated as of 12-10-08.


	5. Confessions

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any Square Enix, or J.R.R. Tolkien related indica. (I'm not sure if the latter is necessary or not, but just in case, there it is.)

WARNINGS: Language, Sexual Reference

**Chapter Five**

**Confessions**

Cloud woke with a start. A loud noise had roused him, yet what, exactly, he didn't know. It didn't take long before the sound rushed past him again. He sat up, surprised to find that he was in a large bed with cool black sheets, equally black fluffy pillows, and a gigantic blanket, also black, which must have been lined with chocobo feathers. Angry male voices drifted from the other side of a dark gray door situated directly in front of him.

He recognized Sephiroth's deep commanding voice, but the other, which, for some odd reason, reminded him of a cat, he didn't. He debated on wether he should go to investigate, but decided against it when he thought he heard his name. Surely that was just his imagination, but, just to be safe, he decided to remain where he was. Besides, he still wore nothing but his underwear. He didn't think waltzing into a room occupied by two practically unknown men, who were arguing on top of that, would be wise.

Ignoring the thundering voices from the other room, he further took in his surroundings. The black bed he sat upon lay opposite the door he assumed led to the den where he'd woken last. Another door was opened to his left, revealing a bathroom. To his right, he spotted yet another door, most likely a closet. To the left of the closet, he saw an empty sword rack. This interested him greatly. While the orphanage hadn't allowed television, due to the lack of mako energy, he had been allowed to read books by candle light, and read them he did. He'd probably read every book in the miserable dump. Not like that said much, seeing as the orphanage didn't have many books . . . well, interesting ones anyway.

Cloud couldn't stand the flimsy little nonfiction variety, they only succeeded in boring him to death. Fantasy, now that was another story. He loved books about courageous warriors who wielded swords and protected the weak. He loved to read stories about fantastic feats that everyone said couldn't be done. Feats like slaying great dragons. Most of all, he enjoyed stories about unassuming nobodies that start from nothing, and become the greatest known legends of their times, like Frodo from _The Lord of the Rings_ for example. He liked those stories the most because they reminded him of himself.

He'd make a name for himself on this planet someday. He just didn't know how yet. Although, he had to admit, Frodo wouldn't have gotten very far if not for Sam, who kept him strong on their perilous journey. Sam was a great companion to Frodo. Cloud sometimes caught himself wondering if, perhaps, they were more than just friends. Lovers maybe? His heart sank at that thought. He didn't have a Sam, a friend, a lover to guide his way. That's okay. He'd made it through life this far on his own . . . right? He'd do the rest on his own as well. He needed no one.

Why would Sephiroth have an empty sword rack in his bedroom? If it was just for looks, surely there would be a sword in it. On top of that, it seemed too long for just any sword, at least a whole three feet too long. Did Sephiroth wield a sword big enough to fill that space? If so, he hoped he'd get to see it at least just once. Sephiroth had said he was in the military. If he, Cloud, joined ShinRa, would he learn to use a sword too?

He shook his head, disbelieving that he'd even considered accepting Sephiroth's offer. There was nothing on The Planet that could change his mind on that subject. He would never join the military. It was just too dangerous for someone like himself.

He had so many mixed emotions concerning the intimidating white-haired man. Sephiroth had offered him more kindness than he'd ever seen out of anyone before. Not that he had to try very hard to exceed that record, but still, why did he even bother? Sephiroth had gone through the trouble to carry him back here and give him mako treatments. He'd even allowed him to sleep in his own bed, even though he hadn't bathed in . . . well, he'd lost count of the days. Five maybe? Too many as far as he was concerned. He didn't smell too bad, but any odor at all was too much odor. He pulled down a lock of blond hair. It had now taken on the shade of dishwater.

He supposed he could always just take a quick shower while Sephiroth was busy arguing with . . . whoever it was. Who had the courage to stand up to a man like that? A slim line lay between bravery and stupidity. Maybe the person in question was just an idiot. Did it really matter?

Back to the subject of bathing. Cloud pondered this for longer than necessary. Eventually, he decided against it, not wanting to anger the intimidating man by using his facilities without first asking for his permission.

With that out of the way, his attention wondered back to the voices in the next room. They had quieted a little . . . back into the range of hospitable conversation. This continued for several long minutes, which Cloud filled with thoughts of what they could have been arguing about, especially if he was correct on hearing his own name. Finally, he heard retreating footsteps, and the closing of a door.

What now? He felt no less uncomfortable about striding, in his underwear, into a room occupied by just one unknown man other than two. The rattling of a turning doorknob startled him from his thoughts. Cloud had just finished covering himself with the black bedding when Sephiroth slipped into the room with a sigh, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He noticed Cloud watching him and halted his actions, as if he were unsure of what to do next.

Sephiroth had more than a few questions to ask the blond, but had decided to wait until he'd been fed and bathed. He'd get his answers soon enough.

"The argument woke you?"

"That's okay . . . I'm well rested."

Sephiroth could tell Cloud was curious as to what had went on while he'd been sleeping, so he gave a brief description of the last hour.

"A man from ShinRa, a Turk by the name of Tseng, visited this morning. I'd foolishly left your dagger out in the den and he recognized it from the news update. I told him I'd just found it, which _is_ the truth, but I don't think he'll leave it at that."

Cloud thought this over. A man from ShinRa suspected he could be here. That meant only one thing.

"Then I have to leave here now. If someone suspects I'm here . . . "

"No, you'll stay." Sephiroth's words sounded more like a command than a statement.

"But . . ." Cloud tried to argue. He couldn't stay here. What if the man came back for him?

"Cloud, I hold a high position in ShinRa. If you join, I can likely free you from the hold of the court systems, even if you're guilty."

Cloud stared with disbelief. A high position? Like what? Cloud didn't know, nor did it matter. He cloud not join ShinRa, nor could he tell this man why not. Now he found himself back in the same predicament as the night before.

He was saved by the annoyed snarls of his stomach. Sephiroth stood there for a moment, thinking something over, then spoke.

"Besides, if you leave, you'll die. We'll continue this conversation over lunch."

Lunch? For some reason, that didn't surprise Cloud at all. He'd been sleeping on completely random hours lately, but that aspect wasn't the most important thing on his mind currently. He hadn't eaten in days, and the pains in his stomach wouldn't let him forget it. He was about to stand, but realized he still wore no presentable clothing.

"Your clothes are on the sink." Sephiroth motioned toward the bathroom. "Go clean yourself up." With that, the older man exited the room, closing the door behind himself.

Cloud stumbled out of the bed, annoyed to find his lack of food had weakened him noticeably, and happy that he'd finally get a chance to wash himself properly. He hated being dirty.

He slowly made his way into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it behind himself. He'd never seen anyone's personal bathroom before, only the public restrooms at the orphanage. He remembered having a bathroom in Nibelhiem, but it had been smaller and less furnished. The shower was light blue in color with a white curtain. A rug, which matched the shower in color as close as the human eye could get without being exact, lay in at the shower's edge to keep the floor dry. The toilet matched the shower as well. The walls had been painted a slate-gray color that calmed Cloud slightly.

Cloud studied the knobs on the shower. Back at the orphanage, there had been only one knob, no choice of either hot or cold, just one knob. When turned, all you got was room-temperature water, neither refreshing, nor relaxing. Sephiroth's shower though, now this was different. Cloud decided to turn the one with the red dot on it, assuming red meant hot. He waited a few moments, then tested it with his fingers. Nope, too hot. He added a bit of cold, and stood. Sephiroth had said his clothes were in here.

He looked on the sink, which matched both the shower and the toilet, and there he found his deep blue top and jeans. They had obviously been washed, seeing as they were no longer dingy with dirt and grime. Over the sink hung a tall mirror. He took this as a chance to view his body's recent changes. He frowned. His hair looked dirty, one could barely tell it was blond anymore, but he'd fix that soon. There were circles under his eyes, most likely from the lack of energy. His skin still looked pale, only now, it had a sheet of insufferable filth over it. He couldn't see the dirt, but he could feel it, and he despised it.

Those were just minor details. A shiver traveled down his spine. His eyes still glowed with an eerie blue haze, further enhancing the blue shades of Sephiroth's bathroom. He'd never get used to that. His ribs poked out beneath his flesh so that they were quite obvious, and every muscle on his body was well defined due to his lack of fatty tissues. His arms were still flecked with tiny scars, though the tiny white marks were getting smaller. He supposed that was because of the mako enhancement. The scar on his neck, from where Arlex had cut him the night he'd killed Matthew, was more visible than it should have been, stretching from below his left ear to beneath his right jaw bone. He concluded it stood out so much because it had become infected and, therefore, taken longer to heal.

He noticed a white bandage bound tightly around his wrist. He felt ashamed of the way he'd acted the night before. Not only had he betrayed himself again, but someone had witnessed his pathetic behavior. If Sephiroth had ever had any undeserved respect for him before, it was definitely gone now. Cloud doubted any man of with such an omnipotent aura could ever respect someone else, especially when it was so obvious he was superior to everyone. Cloud abhorred himself for being so insignificant. He felt inferior around almost everyone he met. Sephiroth exuded an authority that demanded obedience and respect. Yet again, Cloud found himself wondering why a person so powerful, so . . . perfect would even bother with his existence, much less offer kindness and, Gaia forbid, even save his life. The blond preferred not to dwell on such a confusing subject any extended amount of time. Contemplations of that nature usually made his head hurt.

He didn't fancy showering with the bandage, and he was sure it had healed quickly, just like his arm had, so he began to unwrap the white linen. One lone blood stain on the cloth was the only remaining physical remnant of his breakdown, aside from a nearly invisible scar. He smiled.

_I could get used to healing this fast._

He checked the water temperature again. It was hot, but not painfully so. He removed his boxers and stepped into the sky-colored shower, relishing the relaxing feel of the soothing water as it traveled down his back, washing away more than five days of irritating filth. He let the steaming water cleanse his flesh until he felt water could no longer combat the grime alone. He found a bottle of shampoo, and took his time lathering his hair. He wanted to make sure it was as clean as any mortal being could accomplish. After he rinsed, he didn't bother conditioning. Instead, he pulled a clean wash cloth from a metal bar on the shower wall, and proceeded to wash every inch of his body thoroughly.

Then, he simply stood there, enjoying the beat of the warm fall of water on his shoulders. He soon found himself lost in thought. His mind traveled back to the orphanage. He remembered how he used to just sit and observe the other orphans, as if he were alien. He'd watch their interactions with one another. He'd watch their facial expressions, their body language. It occurred to him that he could pretty much read someone if he wanted to. He could usually tell what a person was thinking just by watching them. Why didn't that work with Sephiroth? He couldn't decide if he should trust the man or not.

Would he be staying long enough to map out the man's personality completely? He doubted it. Sephiroth man had saved his life, but that didn't mean he wanted Cloud around permanently. Cloud didn't know if he wanted to stay or not anyway. Someone knew he might be here. He couldn't stay.

_But Sephiroth said . . . if I join ShinRa . . . he said I could get immunities. I might not have to go to prison. What's worse, prison, or the military?_

What if Sephiroth was lying? What if his position in ShinRa wasn't high enough to argue Cloud's case? What was his position in ShinRa? Cloud had so many questions. The outcome of his future lay on his ability to interpret this man's true intentions. He knew he didn't have long to decide. Sephiroth wouldn't want him hanging around forever. Maybe he should join the military. Maybe there he'd learn how to defend himself without killing his attacker.

Once again, the same question repeated itself in his mind. What if Sephiroth is lying?

He didn't quite know how to feel about the white-haired man just yet. He seemed like the type of person who didn't let himself get close to anyone. He also seemed like the type of person who didn't have many friends. He apparently didn't even want them for that matter. No, maybe Sephiroth did want friends. Maybe he just couldn't get them. Maybe he didn't know how. Well, that made two of them. Cloud would like a friend. He wanted someone he could trust more than anything. The problem was, he just didn't know how to trust, nor did he know how to be a friend himself. He'd spent so many years just watching other people communicate, that he'd forgotten to learn the trade.

He sighed. He'd always be alone in this cold world . . . always, and he knew it. He'd resigned himself to a lonely fate, one he'd have to fight like hell to dig himself out of. He was only afraid; that was the problem. He was afraid to open up to other people, afraid to voice his own opinion, afraid to trust, afraid to let someone get to now the real Cloud Strife, not just the broken outer shell he displayed to others. Hell, did he even know the real Cloud Strife, or did he just know the twisted puppet that the world's cruelty had molded him into?

He made a mental note to get to know his true self, and to learn how to trust. Hell, what was the worst that could happen? Death? No, rape.

_What right does one bad experience have to control my life? So, a couple of horny dick heads tried to . . . to . . . _

_That doesn't matter. That doesn't mean everyone else is out to hurt you. Get that through your head. _His inner conscience was actually encouraging him instead of criticizing him? This was new.

That little voice was right. He may have suffered at the hands of others before, but that didn't mean he had to live in fear for the rest of his life. He'd have to open up to someone eventually. Either that, or he could stay in this lonely dark hole he'd dug himself into forever. Of course, he hadn't dug that hole alone. Several others had helped him. Others like his mother, his father, the entire village of Nibelhiem, the staff of the orphanage, Arlex, Matthew . . . Yes, they'd all helped him dig the pit, and some even had the kindness to plant sharpened stakes in the bottom for him, but none had cared enough to help him out of it. Yes, he would change, and now was as good a time to try than any other.

He decided he might take Sephiroth up on his offer, that is, if he deemed him trustworthy. How long would that take? Days? Weeks? Months? Surely not. Besides, he didn't have that long. He'd have to make his decision quickly . . . His body needed mako to live . . . ShinRa had mako . . . Was joining the military and simply taking the risk of a repeat experience worse than death? He already knew the answer to that question. He just didn't want to voice it to himself just yet.

**88888888**

Sephiroth seated himself in his favorite chair, the recliner across from the sofa, and calmly awaited Cloud's emergence from the bedroom. He knew he'd be waiting for a while, the teen probably hadn't bathed since his escape. Two boxes of Wutianese carry-out sat upon the coffee table between the sofa and himself. He knew their heat-retaining containers would keep them warm while he waited.

He'd intended to wake Cloud earlier, but Tseng's arrival had interrupted his plans. He'd already ordered the food, but it hadn't arrived yet. Tseng had come to discuss the war. He'd said it'd be months before any actual 'action' occurred as far as SOLDIER was concerned. The Turks on the other hand, they were busy fulfilling confidential assignments, missions that mostly involved espionage. He'd always said, 'It's always good to know how cold the water is before you dive in.' It was highly relevant to know the entire situation when going to war. Collecting information before sending out troops was a wise choice.

_At least President ShinRa can do something right. _

At present, the Turks hadn't learned anything of true value. It would seem Wutai was quite adept at keeping their secrets from prying ears. No information had been found on the black-caped warriors who had attacked Zack and himself on their last assignment. In fact, they hadn't even been sighted since that encounter. Tseng said they were believed to be hired mercenaries, nothing more, but Sephiroth knew from experience that no mere mercenary could all but kill a first class SOLDIER. Hell, he'd had trouble fighting them himself, and he was supposed to be the most powerful man alive. Something was definitely amiss. Sephiroth had a bad feeling about this war. A very bad feeling.

Tseng's visit had gone smoothly until the Turk spotted the dagger lying on the side-table. He had picked it up, then examined it closely. This moment was followed by an awkward silence. Sephiroth had been praying Tseng hadn't seen the news broadcast. He wasn't quite ready to reveal Cloud's presence. He'd planned to do that once he'd gathered more information on the boy, but not to the Turks. Hell, the Turks didn't need to know he'd been found until after he'd been cleared of all charges.

The Turks were a very diverse branch of ShinRa. Not only were they spies, but they also did a number of other tasks in the company. They executed the President's personal dirty work. They performed assassinations, and, most important of all in this case, they doubled as detectives for the Police Agency when a case proved too difficult, or when a criminal could not be located. Sephiroth was positive Tseng had been notified of Cloud's standing, even if his hopes prayed differently.

The silence stretched out until he could stand it no longer. Sephiroth was renowned for his patience and determination, but Tseng's cool wolf-like stare could have melted the tallest, iciest mountain in the Northern Hemisphere.

"I found that in the streets as I was headed to the office a few mornings ago."

Tseng studied him briefly, then spoke.

"This looks familiar. Have you watched any news lately?"

"Yes, actually, I have, and, yes, I know who its original owner is."

"Where did you find it?"

"It was simply lying on the asphalt a couple of blocks east of Headquarters."

Sephiroth had decided not to allay that he'd found it buried hilt-deep in a mako maddened beast's spine.

"In this condition?"

"That's exactly as I found it. I've not tampered with it a bit. A few of my fingerprints may be on the hilt, but that's about it. I intended to turn it over to you on my next working day, but it slipped my mind."

"You and I both know you're not one to forget things, Sephiroth."

"I didn't have my coffee that morning. Just ask Zack, I nearly beheaded him with a stapler simply because he wouldn't stop humming some stupid song from a natural male enhancement commercial."

While Zack had done that before, he hadn't on that particular morning. Actually, Sephiroth did have his coffee that morning. He'd have to make sure that's the story Zack would give Tseng if the Turk indeed did ask him.

Tseng eyed him for a while longer, then tucked the dagger into his suit.

"Then I'm sure you won't mind me taking it with me for examination now, then will you?"

"Of course not," was all he said, but that wasn't what he was thinking. His thoughts sounded a little along the lines of the following.

_Damn it! Brown-nosed bastard!_

What could he say? The dagger was evidence in a murder case. Hell, it was the murder weapon. There was no way he could possibly keep it from the Turks, even if he convinced Tseng to let him keep it. The snake would just send one of his highly trained stealth operatives in to steal it if he didn't take it with him now.

Dammit. Now the Turks had evidence they didn't need, in his opinion. While Sephiroth had cleaned the dagger thoroughly, that didn't mean the mako was gone. Mako's properties allowed it to leave a specific chemical signature on everything that came into contact with it. That chemical signature was very distinct, and, to anyone who operated under ShinRa, easily recognized. It was also the property of mako that allowed the electric charge in the substance, and said electric charge is the culprit for causing the eyes of any living creature who comes into contact with it to glow. The Turks and, soon after, the police would both know Cloud had somehow come into contact with mako. They'd either assume him dead, or continue their search at an even more formidable pace. He didn't even want to risk the latter.

He was unsure if Tseng had believed his lie on not. It didn't matter. Sephiroth's business was his own and, even if the Turks weren't under his jurisdiction, he could easily avoid a search warrant, especially since Tseng had no evidence that stated otherwise. And, as of now, Tseng had no other evidence to go by whatsoever, but that fortunate detail was demolished as soon as he heard a knock at his door. He'd almost forgotten about the food delivery.

Tseng's eyes shifted to the door with relish. "It would seem you have a visitor."

Under any other circumstances, Sephiroth would have politely and formally dismissed himself, as many years of dealing with the 'sophisticated' money hogs of ShinRa's higherarchy had taught him, but not today. Tseng had overstayed his welcome, not that Sephiroth had ever liked the man much anyway. Tseng was the type of man who would turn his own mother in to serve a death penalty. He was a rat, a snake, a spider, a vulture. No, he was a genetic mutation of all of those abhorrable, loathsome creatures combined into one slimy, dripping, contemptible beast. Sephiroth was glad to get away from him, even if it was only a few seconds to answer the door.

He opened his door to a tall gangly redhead with more zits than he cared to count. Was that the Orion constellation? Sephiroth thought he could plot both Canis Major and Minor there too. The boy saluted clumsily, most likely trying to look professional in Sephiroth's eyes. Sephiroth hated suck-ups more than anything, especially pathetic ones such as this.

"Here's your c-carry-out G-g-general Sephir-roth S-sir. It's still nice and hot. Here-here's your receipt."

Great, the moron stuttered too. Sephiroth often got that reaction from people by simply walking into a room. He couldn't stand it when people got nervous around him, and even more so when he was off duty. One thing that really pissed him off, was when people feinted just because he shook their hand or something. Cloud hadn't even stuttered, he remembered. While the blond had flinched and avoided eye contact, his speech had been as clear as expected from someone who'd just recovered from a near death experience. Besides, Sephiroth suspected the blond acted in such a submissive manner around everyone, not just him. He reminded himself that the reason Cloud hadn't stuttered was he was still unaware of his political title.

_You just wait. When he finds out who you are, he'll probably wet himself. _

He planned to interrogate Cloud when he awoke, in a discrete manner of course. The teen wouldn't even realize he was being questioned. When he had the information he wanted, then he'd enlighten Cloud as to what position he held in ShinRa.

Sephiroth payed the boy the required amount and took the food into his kitchen, but not before Tseng had noticed there were two cartons instead of one. When he returned to the den, the black-haired man eyed him suspiciously.

"You expecting company?"

_Shit, now he's questioning my actions. He suspects Cloud could be staying here. That's okay, as long as I don't let him into my bedroom, where he has no business to begin with, I'm fine._

"Just Zack. I'm sure he'll be here any moment," Sephiroth lied.

"Do you mind if I stay for his visit? I haven't spoken to the Lieutenant General in quite some time. I feel he needs to hear my news as well."

"There's no reason for you to stay. I can tell him everything you've told me."

"Yes, but information tends to crumble when passed from one mouth to the next. Perhaps it's best I told him myself."

Sephiroth was trying desperately to reign in his rising anger at the raven-haired Turk. The man had the audacity to impose himself on someone's personal business?

_Just keep it casual. He'll have to leave eventually, Zack or no Zack. Shit! What if Cloud wakes up and comes out here?!_

Tseng could not stay!

"No, that's all right. I've been General for over eight years. I believe I know by now the correct way to give a current situations report."

"Well, yes, that is true, but . . . "

"You will not be staying for Zack's visit, and I will give him the report," he snapped.

Sephiroth's patience had finally given out like a dam with a crack in its walls, and unleashed his flood of fury. Tseng had wormed the dagger into his own hands, but Sephiroth would not allow him to succeed in gaining any other clues of Cloud's presence. The blond had been weakened by lack of food, mako withdrawal, and many other injuries. Cloud wouldn't survive long behind bars, that was for certain, and as long as the blond resided under his roof, he'd never see so much as a court date, much less a prison cell. In order to achieve this, Tseng had to be dealt with. The fox had to be eliminated before it reached the chicken coupe.

"That's because Zack is coming, isn't it?!"

Tseng had risen to his feet in an attempt to further the effect of his point, but Sephiroth had none of it. The white-haired man rose to his feet as well and stood a full four inches taller than the Turk.

"It is none of your business who's coming to visit me, you slimy bastard. I'm an independent man, Tseng. If it pleases me, I can have the Emperor of Wutai over for tea and crumpets."

"Not quite. Nor is it legal to withhold information on the whereabouts of criminals. To be more specific, it is against the law to protect murderers such as Cloud Strife from receiving a punishment he deserves. You wouldn't be protecting him so if you saw the victim's body. Strife slit Matthew's gut wide open and left him to bleed to death. The other victim has barely spoken a word since. He's been traumatized for life. There's no way you simply found this dagger because a wanted criminal wouldn't just leave their weapon behind to be found by the authorities. And I think you need to know, I met the Lieutenant General on my way here. He said he was going on a date, and, seeing as he's straight, as far as my knowledge extends, I doubt his date would be you."

Sephiroth's mind had flinched in shame when Tseng had brought up the boy Cloud had been accused of killing. And why wouldn't the other one talk? He'd almost convinced himself that Cloud could never murder someone in cold blood. Then images of the slain pit bull, almost three times the boy's size, loomed into his mind's eye, the white-handled dagger protruding from a bloody wound in its spine. Cloud had done that in self defense, yes, but it proved he could kill. It proved he knew how. He'd been hoping against his reasonings that Cloud was innocent. He kept hoping a mistake had been made, but, deep down, he knew the blond had done it, but why? Cloud was too young to simply kill someone for no reason. He hadn't been that screwed up in the head, had he? He remembered the blond figure clutching a knife in his kitchen floor, dragging the serrated blade across his own veins. If he could kill himself, could he kill another?

_But he didn't kill himself. How do I know he'd have gone all the way? _

Sephiroth combated himself in his own mind as his body went into autopilot. He remembered small snippets of his argument with Tseng, but couldn't recall anything he'd said. Instead, he'd been preoccupied with the task of understanding this broken blond enigma that had suddenly fallen into his life. He couldn't bring himself to believe Cloud had committed such a crime for no reason. Sephiroth had accepted that the blond had killed the other orphan, but why? Cloud had attempted taking his own life because he'd been stricken by a sudden bolt of fear. Fear of what? Maybe he'd killed Matthew because he was afraid. Afraid for his life? Afraid of something else? What else?

He'd been hoping he could still convince the blond to join the military. There was no other way to provide him with the necessary mako treatments. Sephiroth couldn't continue to swipe them from the lab, the current presiding scientist, would notice eventually. He'd also concluded that, judging by his reactions to mako, Cloud would one day make a fine asset to the combative side of ShinRa. Maybe he'd even make an officer rank, but none of this could happen until the issue of his actions had been sorted out.

Sephiroth suddenly found himself closing the door on a very red-faced Tseng. What had his enraged self told the Turk? Oh well, that wasn't important at the moment. The object of their quarrel had most likely been woken by their raised voices. He remembered the boy's ribs poking through his shrunken abdomen. Killer or not, he still needed food to live.

He'd found the blond awake, pleased to see that he could operate on his own. Most victims of mako withdrawal, especially from exposure to contaminated mako, found themselves marginally weaker during recovery. Sephiroth was certain the impure substance hadn't worked out of Cloud's system yet. He'd have to give him another injection later.

Now, here he sat, awaiting Cloud's emergence from the bedroom. The blond should be walking through the door any moment now. He planned to wait until Cloud had dug into his meal a good bit, then begin his questioning. He didn't want to begin until the teen got a decent amount of food down, seeing as he may catch on and put the carry-out aside, which wouldn't be good, considering his state of health.

Sephiroth was positive Cloud had lost even more weight during the few days he'd had him. The first three days, when Cloud lay on his sofa unconscious and feverish, he had been sure the blond wouldn't make it. His temperature had fluctuated between extremities, going up as high as one hundred and six degrees Fahrenheit, then down to ninety-one or sometimes lower. He'd sweated profusely, and constantly shook with lethargy. Sephiroth knew he'd been in great pain as well. He would flinch and moan often, and tossed and turned like a headless snake.

Sephiroth, not wanting to wake up with a dead body in his den, had stayed awake all three days, monitoring Cloud's progress, even if there was nothing that could be done. If Cloud's body wanted to give in to the mako, nothing could stop it. The thick green liquid was a force all its own, and no mortal could sway its effects. Surprisingly, he hadn't seen any seen hide nor hair of Zack ever since he'd found Cloud. Tseng had said he was going on a date. Zack always stayed away when he was preoccupied by a girl.

_How long will this one last? _

Cloud had finally stopped showing outward signs of pain, although Sephiroth was unsure if his sudden quietness could be attributed to recovery, or the first signs of death. His temperature had finally regulated, then he'd stopped having symptoms altogether. It looked as if he were merely asleep.

Sephiroth had been recalling how close Cloud had come to death, when said blond walked timidly into the den. He glanced once at Sephiroth and then lowered his gaze, as if afraid the white-haired man would be offended by a simple act such as being looked upon. Why did he think himself so inferior? Cloud seated himself across from Sephiroth on the sofa, keeping his eyes averted.

Sephiroth briefly found himself staring at Cloud's newly cleaned hair. All of the color and splendor it had lost had fully returned. It hadn't dried completely yet, causing it to stick to his neck, creating a serene effect. Sephiroth tried to catch the boy's eye, but the blond wouldn't even look up.

_What did that place do to him? It's as if he's been beaten all his life. _

Sephiroth's heart clenched at that thought. If it were true, it meant Cloud was afraid of him, afraid he'd hurt him. That thought stung deeply. He didn't want such a seemingly hurt creature to fear him for what others had done. He only wanted to help.

_But, for me to help him, he has to trust me . . . He doesn't seem like the type to open up to anyone, much less a complete stranger. _

_I've got to try. Without my help, he'll end up behind bars . . . or dead. _

Sephiroth cleared his throat, preparing to ask the questions that had been haunting his thoughts for days, hoping he'd get answers.

"Cloud?"

The blond shivered as if he'd just been ordered a death sentence. His blue eyes flitted to his face then down in a submissive manner.

Sephiroth felt Cloud's eyes return to him warily as he reached to the table and picked up a box of carry-out.

"I know you're hungry . . . you may be able to hide your past from me, but your body won't let you hide that." He offered the food in as unthreatening a manner as he could muster.

Cloud eyed his had, then slowly reached forward and grasped the box. He worked the lid open and sniffed the still warm noodles inside. Sephiroth pushed a fork over to him.

"I thought you'd want this instead of chopsticks."

Cloud retrieved the fork and began to eat cautiously, like a deer in a meadow, glancing up at Sephiroth between bites as though conducting routine checks for predators. Though he did seem to be enjoying the first meal he'd had in Gaia knows how long. Who wouldn't?

Sephiroth took notice of the thin white scar circling Cloud's neck. The teen had been so pale before, that he'd never noticed it, but now that he was warm and his complection had begun to return, the scar stood out noticeably. Sephiroth couldn't help but wonder where it had come from. It had the look of a mark left by a blade. Who had done it, when, and why? Matthew perhaps?

Sephiroth waited for a few minutes, eating his own food with chopsticks. The outcome of this conversation would determine Cloud's fate. Sephiroth wanted to draft him into SOLDIER, where he'd have all of the mako treatments he'd ever need. Sephiroth was also confident that Cloud would quickly rise through the ranks, seeing as his body reacted so strongly to the green substance. He looked to the blond across from him. He wanted so much for the boy to join the military, at least he'd be off the streets there. He didn't know why . . . he'd sleep easier knowing Cloud was safe, but, in order for his yearnings to come true, he had to know the teen's story . . . all of it . . . and, more important, the darker details, such as what had happened that night Matthew was killed. Finally, he'd decided to speak.

"You know, with my occupation, I've killed my fair share of people, but legally mind you." He observed Cloud's reaction. The blond's eating had slowed and he'd become even more alert.

_There you go, dumbass. Now he thinks you're going to kill him . . . _

He continued, "I killed them because I had to in order to protect myself. Nobody will scorn you if that's your case."

Cloud had stopped eating altogether, just as Sephiroth had predicted. His face had contorted into a mixture of fear, shame, and confusion and his eyes never left the center on the table.

"Cloud . . . Did you kill that boy?"

The teen visibly struggled with his emotions. He seemed ready to burst at any moment. With what, Sephiroth couldn't discern. Anger at his daring to ask such a question? Tears because he felt guilt for what he'd done? There were countless reactions that could spring from the boy at this moment, and the one that he showed would depend on the blond's personality, which Sephiroth knew next to nothing about. No matter, he was prepared for the unexpected. This time, he'd even checked to be sure there were no potentially dangerous objects within the boy's ability to find.

At last, Cloud looked to have made a decision. He clenched his eyes shut, swallowing that powerful emotion Sephiroth couldn't place completely rather than letting it show. Then, he slowly nodded his head, his gaze still locked on the table.

Sephiroth had predicted that answer, even if his hopes had wanted his logic to be wrong.

_Well, at least I have one answer . . . Now for the rest. Let's just hope things continue this smoothly. _

"You don't look like the type of person to kill in cold blood." Sephiroth left the question to be implied.

**88888888**

Cloud had enjoyed the food. He'd nearly eaten all of it by the time Sephiroth had begun asking questions. His thoughts tore at each other's throats like ravenous lions. What could he do? He'd told himself while he was in the shower that he'd open up, but he hadn't expected Sephiroth to come right out and ask such questions.

What would the man do with the information he was given? Could he be trusted? Why should he be trusted?

Cloud had already confessed to killing Matthew. Now Sephiroth wanted to know why he'd killed him. He couldn't tell. Nobody could ever know of the shameful things Matthew had forced him into. No one could ever know what Cloud had avoided that night he'd spilled the bastard's guts onto the wooden floors of the orphanage. No one. The white-haired man was waiting patiently for an answer. Cloud knew he'd let his guard down the very moment he'd nodded yes to Sephiroth's first question. He could punish himself later. Right now, he was preoccupied with the task of navigating his way through this endangering conversation.

He looked up to see that Sephiroth was still watching him intently. He cringed under the scrutiny, wishing he had the power to read minds and understand this man's motives for taking him in, saving his life, giving him food . . . asking these questions. He thought of where he'd be if Sephiroth hadn't taken him off of the streets that rainy day and administered the mako injection. He'd probably be nothing but a carcass by now, eaten by rats and other scavengers. He owed Sephiroth the truth, or at least the gist of it.

"I had to kill him . . . I didn't want . . . I didn't mean to . . . I just had to do it."

Sephiroth continued to watch him, taking in his body language like a sponge. Cloud found himself caught in deep emerald eyes. Astonishingly, Sephiroth was the first to look away. He'd looked down to study his smooth, black leather gloves. Cloud remained silent, waiting to hear what the white-haired man would say next.

"You mean you killed him in self-defense. That's not murder, just man slaughter, but you can still go to prison for it."

Cloud lowered his gaze back to the table. He'd memorized its every grain marking by now.

_Here it comes. Policemen are going to pop out all around me and arrest me any minute now. _

But no policemen ever came. There was only the growing stretch of silence as Sephiroth contemplated his next move.

"You killed him because you had to . . . What was your motive? What did he do? Did he anger you? Threaten you? Hurt you?"

Cloud was trapped between a rock and a hard place. He wouldn't allow himself to lose his cool again. He forced himself to remain on the sofa, to ponder how he would answer the question. He could always just lie. He could say Matthew tried to kill him with the dagger and that he'd stolen it from him and used it in turn. Then again, Matthew's finger prints wouldn't be on the hilt . . . He was sure it'd be checked. He didn't want to lie anyway, not to this deity who'd saved his life. The least he could do was be honest. He wanted to tell the truth, he really did, but he didn't know how. He couldn't bring himself to admit that he'd been wronged in such a way, especially not to someone like this. Sephiroth would probably just laugh at him and tell him how pathetic and weak he was for not standing up to Matthew. He may even criticize him as being homosexual because he'd appeased Matthew's demands.

Cloud hated feeling indecisive. It frustrated him beyond measure. He'd decided to tell Sephiroth the truth, but how? The man waited patiently for his answer, but how long would his patience last? Cloud remembered his promise to himself to become more outspoken. In a way, that meant he needed to be braver. He'd have to stop being so afraid of others. He'd have to . . . trust this man. He'd have to tell him what Matthew had attempted.

He inhaled deeply, gathering his courage.

_Well, here goes . . . _

"It's a fairly long story . . . but I don't think you need to know all of it." Cloud paused. When had he started shaking? "It started when I was . . . eleven I think."

Cloud looked up to see that Sephiroth was listening intently. Oh how he wished to be anywhere but here at this moment.

Cloud proceeded to tell Sephiroth how Matthew had cornered him on the play ground, but he stopped there. He just couldn't bring himself to say it.

"He . . . he made me . . ."

He couldn't say it. Why couldn't he just say it? Why couldn't he get it out and over with? It just hurt so much. It hurt to let someone know because he was ashamed of it. Even if he hadn't wanted to do it . . . he'd still done it. In his own mind, it was as fowl as if he'd volunteered himself.

He shook his head and buried his face in his hands. "I can't say it . . . I can't . . ." He tried, but he was unable to hold back the tears. The hot little droplets spawned of his emotions, his shame, suffering, loneliness, pain . . . they fell silently as he hid his face from the man across from him. Gaia, how he wanted nothing more than for this torrent of conflicting thoughts and feelings to subside. He was caught in the vortex of a mighty, merciless storm. He was ensnared in a spinning maelstrom and was descending deeper and deeper into its depths, and he had no one to pull him out . . . no one to rescue him from his own mind and the torturous pain the world had bestowed upon it. Why did life have to hurt so much? Why had he been dealt fate's unlucky card?

His shoulders shook as he wept. His flesh had grown cold and he'd begun to shiver, or perhaps that was only his body's reaction to the anxiety he felt. His tears soaked his shirt. He'd been crying for ages it seemed. His soul had been born crying. He'd dared not look up, knowing what he'd find. Sephiroth would look upon him in disgust. A weak little blond orphan who felt so emboldened as to cry like a baby in his presence. He'd done it now. If he'd deserved no respect before, he definitely didn't now. He was beginning to wonder if he should just stand and take his leave, but he couldn't make the tears stop. All of the grief had to get out. His body could contain it no longer. He felt as if he'd cry forever . . .

Then, before his mind could register the alien sensations, he felt strong, warm arms around his shoulders. On instinct, he buried his face in the solid body next to him. He inhaled deeply, Sephiroth's scent filled his nostrils, intoxicated, even soothed his mind. He smelled so clean, yet the aroma was powerful . . . not a cologne, perhaps his soap. Nobody had ever held him like this before, not even his mother. No one had ever comforted him, mended him when he broke. He didn't understand how the man could stand to touch him in his weak, pathetic state, him being so powerful, but, at this particular moment, he didn't care. He'd never been shown this kindness, and he decided to take advantage of its pleasure while it lasted.

**88888888**

Sephiroth sat quietly, waiting to hear what Cloud had to say. The teen seemed to be having trouble forming the words. Why? Was the injustice done upon him so unspeakably terrible? The boy had looked on the verge of tears ever since Sephiroth had asked why he'd killed Matthew, and now he'd covered his face in his hands. Sephiroth knew what was coming before it happened. The blond's shoulders shook and he exhaled a weak whimper.

Sephiroth stared, unsure of what to do. He'd comforted him the night before, but the notion still felt so strange, so unnatural. He knew orphaned youths were commonly more emotional than those who'd been raised with parents or guardians, but this unstable? There was more to the picture somewhere. Something more had happened to this boy to make him crumble so, but he couldn't offer his condolences until he knew what was wrong.

Cloud's tears continued to flow as his body trembled. The blond's sorrow pulled at his heart strings, and he couldn't help but inch forwards. Before he knew it, he found himself sitting next to Cloud, embracing him in his arms. He'd been expecting him to pull away, but felt relief when his virgin attempts at calming the blond weren't rejected. Instead, Cloud did the exact opposite of what he'd been anticipating and nuzzled his tear-stained face into his side.

Sephiroth cautiously placed his hand on Cloud's back and instinctively rubbed it in a circular motion. The action seemed to relax Cloud, if only a little.

Now what? He had a crying teenager snuggled into his side, and barely any experience at all in situations like this. He'd led countless men into battle. He'd overcome toppling odds and defeated an entire regimen of Wutanese ninjas alone. He was the greatest swordsman alive, but when it came to providing solace when others were in need, he was a beginner.

He'd once seen Zack soothe a bawling child whose parents had died in a house fire. They'd been in Rocket Town to check up on the progress of the space program. The wooden cabin had become engulfed in flames during the night while the little girl was away visiting her grandmother. Sephiroth had managed to put out the blaze with several Blizzaga spells, which melted and doused the flames, but he'd been too late. The little girl had to watch as the ashen bodies of her dead mother and father were removed from the ruins. Zack had picked her up and rocked her, telling her it would be okay until she dosed off to sleep. He'd always been a good people person.

Sephiroth decided it wouldn't hurt to imitate his friend and began to rock the blond slowly. He felt Cloud's tremors gradually relent, and the teen seemed to be sleeping, except for the occasional sniffle. Sephiroth knew that if he didn't change tack Cloud would be sleeping soon. So, after weighing his considerations carefully in his mind, he decided to speak to Cloud, rather than letting him just dose off, which would solve nothing.

"Cloud . . ." he hesitated, unsure of what to say. The blond had tensed slightly, a sign he was listening. "Cloud, I want to help you, but I can't do that if I don't know what's wrong. Will you please tell me what he did to you that deserved death in your judgment?"

Cloud started to pull away, but, changing his mind, he stopped. Then he spoke. His voice was a desperate whisper and still slightly shaky.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

Sephiroth had been expecting that question from the beginning and already knew how to answer.

"You don't."

Cloud remained silent for a while, contemplating his odd answer.

"Why do you want to help me?"

Sephiroth had been asking himself that very question ever since he'd brought the blond home. He'd never cared for anyone like this before, and he'd only just met the boy. He didn't know the answer himself. He wondered if perhaps Zack's bleeding heart had rubbed off on him. No, it wasn't his heart . . . was it? No, the great General Sephiroth cared for no one. He despised the weak . . . right?

_But he's not weak, you saw what he did to that mako maddened beast . . . he'll make a fine SOLDIER someday. _

That had to be the answer. He wanted to help the boy because he'd make a good attribute to the military. That was it, but could he tell Cloud that? The teen had already adamantly refused his offer the day before . . . though he'd never given a reason as to why. Finally, Sephiroth settled on the only answer he cared to voice.

"I don't know."

The next silence lasted even longer than the last one. Cloud shifted nervously.

"If I tell you why I killed Matthew, how many others will find out?"

This question surprised Sephiroth a little. His answer would determine wether he got the answers he'd been searching for or not, but he didn't want to lie.

"Only those who need to know. If it comes to it, you'll have to tell a jury you know . . . "

"Then why tell you?"

"Because I can help you through your trial . . . If you tell me, I may even be able to pull a few strings so that you won't have to stand trial at all."

"How?"

"Remember, I told I hold a high position in ShinRa."

Cloud lifted his head from Sephiroth's side. His eyes were still irritated from crying, but he looked serious regardless.

"What position would that be?"

Now it was Sephiroth's turn to squirm. Not that he was ashamed to tell people of his position, who would be? He'd never met someone who didn't already know he was ShinRa's military commander before. He remembered thinking he'd have to travel the edge of the world to find a lover who didn't know his military rank . . . yet here was this blond who'd been in Midgar for Gaia knows how long. Not that he could ever consider Cloud a lover. He was a full twelve years older than the fifteen-year-old. No, not a lover, but a potential friend maybe . . . a friend like Zack. While they hadn't truly spoken a lot, they hadn't argued either, and that was quite an accomplishment for Sephiroth, seeing as he instinctively resented most people he met.

_It's not like you can keep him in the dark . . . he'll find out sooner or later anyway, better for you to tell him than someone else. _

He'd have to tell Cloud someday, why not now? He imagined the blond would be fairly vexed if someone else told him instead. Perhaps Cloud wouldn't make such a big deal of it. He hadn't even known what ShinRa was a few days ago. That also meant he hadn't heard any of the praising tales civilians passed around about him. They were all tales of how he'd taken down seemingly invincible opponents single-handedly, or of how he could read the minds of opposing generals of the battle front and use the information to plot his next move. They were all slightly exaggerated of course. He couldn't read people's minds, and Zack had been at his side during almost every fight and the dark-haired SOLDIER was a force to be reckoned with himself. Maybe Cloud's view of him wouldn't change that much after all.

Then, a brilliant idea sprang into his head. Cloud didn't want to tell him why he'd killed Matthew, but he also wished to inquire Sephiroth's military rank . . . perhaps he could make a deal.

"Why don't you tell me why you killed Matthew, then I'll tell you my rank."

Cloud gave him a look that said, 'Are you kidding me?'

"I don't think that's fair," was the blond's response.

"What do you mean?"

"If you knew why I killed him, you'd think it was an unfair deal too."

"Then why don't you tell me so I'll know why it's unfair?"

"But . . . I can't say it . . . I tried, I really did. I just can't . . ."

Cloud's voice had begun to waiver again.

"Cloud, I said I want to help you. I can't help if I don't know . . . Please, tell me."

Why was he being so nice?

"You don't even know why you want to help me, so why should you? Besides, after I tell . . . You probably won't even look at me. I'm filthy, worthless . . . I'm . . . "

Sephiroth stopped him in mid-sentence. "No, Cloud. I promise. I won't think any less of you . . . no matter what it is."

Again, Sephiroth found himself wondering what Cloud's life had been like. Where had he gotten the notion that he was worthless? Every living creature had a purpose . . . even the lowliest of all such as flies or mice. Cloud was definitely worth more than a mouse.

"How can you know that if you don't know what I'm going to say?"

The blond had a point . . .

"Once again, I don't. I'm promising that, if you tell me, I won't think you worthless or filthy because you're not. Cloud, just because you're ashamed of whatever it is doesn't mean others will feel the same shame as you."

A few tears had rolled down Cloud's cheek during the conversation. The teen thought deeply on the latter of Sephiroth's words. Cloud stood, Sephiroth eyed him warily, but relaxed when he only moved to sit in the recliner across from him.

"Fine, I'll tell you, but you have to keep that promise. And don't interrupt. Don't say anything until I'm finished."

"I don't make promises often, so why wouldn't I keep it? And I won't say anything until you're finished speaking."

Cloud reluctantly nodded his approval, then ran his hand's nervously through his hair, which had dried completely during the conversation and become soft and bouncy. He leaned forwards, but kept his eyes on the ground between his feet.

**88888888**

Questions rattled his head like a train wreck. Cloud's heart raced like lightning striking the planet. Where to start? How much to tell? Would he be able to hold a straight face rather than cracking into another breakdown? That's why he'd buried his face in his hands, so Sephiroth wouldn't see if he shed a few tears, but that wouldn't conceal the sound of his sobs. Why had he agreed to tell this man again?

After a moment of thought, Cloud had decided he'd begin with the first time, the first time he'd been defiled and humiliated by being forced into oral with Matthew. He'd also decided not to go into too much detail. Sephiroth seemed intelligent enough to put two and two together. He noticed he had begun to sweat, and his hands had grown cold . . . the classic signs of severe nervousness. He steeled himself to begin a story he thought he would never tell anyone. This man, this practical stranger, had earned more of his trust than he'd allowed anyone in years, but not all of it mind you. Cloud still had his doubts, but how worse could his life get? Besides, he could see that Sephiroth wasn't about leave him be on the matter. Even if the man was being patient and understanding, Cloud could tell he was determined to talk it out of him one way or another.

**88888888**

Sephiroth waited for Cloud to form what he found so difficult to say into words. He was anxious to find out what had broken the blond so. He longed to know just how deep the wounds went. What had driven this boy into such a grave level of introspective distrust? Finally, it seemed Cloud had made a decision. When the blond spoke, his voice trembled, but not fearfully so. Sephiroth knew Cloud had never wished to tell anyone what he was about to hear, and thus, he listened respectfully.

"I've been in the orphanage even since I was six," Cloud began.

Sephiroth's expression changed to something unreadable. Six? Cloud had been in that place for nearly ten years? No wonder he was so submissive, so unconfident. No wonder he thought himself worthless. Sephiroth knew it was highly unlikely that Cloud had received the proper emotional support he'd needed. He knew from experience that youth was the weakest, most pliable state of the human mind. He'd been raised by a scientist by the name of Professor Gast. While Gast had tried to be a good parent, he was still only a cold-hearted rationalist of a scientist who'd believed that the mind needed no consolations or encouragement. His father Hojo, also a scientist, had always said he was no good at being a father and, therefore, hadn't even attempted it. The only times he'd seen Hojo were for his monthly check-ups and mako treatments. The man had disappeared during Wutai War One. His mother, she had died giving birth to him, or so Hojo had always said. On certain occasions, Hojo had given him evidence that, perhaps, that wasn't the way she'd died. Cloud's voice broke Sephiroth from his reverie.

"You see, no one in my hometown, Nibelhiem, would take me in after my mother killed herself, so I got sent here, to Midgar. The orphanage is a lonely place. I had no friends," Cloud shrugged, "still don't for that matter. In fact, I hardly ever spoke to anyone."

Sephiroth had to stop himself for asking about Cloud's father. He'd given his word that he wouldn't interrupt.

"Matthew had been there for as long as I could remember. He's . . . he was two years older than me, and a lot bigger."

Cloud paused at this for so long that Sephiroth thought he'd changed his mind and decided not to tell. The blond's hand rose to his neck as his fingers explored the length of the white scar there that Sephiroth had noticed only moments before.

"I wasn't the only one he . . . did things to, but I think I was his favorite. He made me . . . " Cloud gave a frustrated huff, apparently he still couldn't say it, "The night I killed him . . . he tried to go too far. He and Arlex, they tried to . . . to . . . rape me, but . . . I escaped . . . I was scared."

Had Sephiroth heard that correctly?

"The dagger belongs to Arlex, I took it from him so he couldn't hurt me with it, but, in the end, I'm the one who ended up using it. I didn't mean to kill him . . . I didn't . . . I swear I didn't."

Cloud's voice sounded strained, as if he were pleading, and, as he spoke, it had receded to a soft whisper. Tears were rolling down the boy's cheeks again, but they were silent.

Sephiroth sat quietly. What he had heard both stunned and angered him. Cloud said Matthew had made him do things against his will before.

_Things like what? _

_I'm not positive, but I'll bet Masamune they were sexually inclined_.

Sephiroth's mind seethed. He felt an overwhelming urge to go to the orphanage and strangle the other boy, the one Cloud had spared. Cloud had said he hadn't meant to kill the other one, but, truthfully, Sephiroth was glad he had. Matthew had deserved his death. Sephiroth took in Cloud's thin form in the chair across from him. The blond's nerves were shot. His hands shook from the shock of telling of his ordeal, and he was so thin . . . pitifully thin. Orphaned at six, starved and mistreated for ten years under the guardianship of the orphanage, then wanted for killing a sick rapist who'd hounded him over half of his life. No wonder he'd tried to kill himself. Sephiroth swore then and there that Cloud would never see the inside of an iron door. The boy wouldn't be accused of murder just because he'd defended himself. Sephiroth would make sure of that. Not even Tseng and his Turks would stand in his way. No one would hurt Cloud ever again. If they did, they would suffer for it.

**88888888**

Author Notes:

Yes, it's finished! This chapter's even longer than the first one! I'll admit, I had a hard time working through this one. I mean, there are hardly any words to describe the emotional mine field here.

I apologize to those who'd gotten wind that this chapter was to be posted earlier. My schedule wasn't cooperating. I finally got my home internet back, so now I won't have to sneak into computer labs and such. I even borrowed the secretary's computer where my mom works, but I didn't get to use that one long. People thought I was the secretary and kept asking me stupid questions . . . that was a little awkward.

This chapter was meant to be longer because it was supposed to contain another major event, but, as you can see, it's already long enough. Thus, I've decided to place that major event in the next chapter.

Sadly, for those of you who are reading this only for the SephXCloud part, that's not to come for quite a few more chapters. Right now, Seph's only thinking of Cloud as a friend, but that will change in due time. They have some bonding to do first. Not to mention, the war is still on . . . I've more than a few surprises for you there.

Please keep up the reading, and you should know by now that I eat reviews for breakfast, so don't starve me! (Did you know that reviews also make a nice midnight snack?)

Concerning gil: Well, I'm not very sure what the value of gil is when converted to the American dollar, but I'm going to pretend 10 gil = one dollar. So, for example, Sephiroth would have paid $10.00 for the Chinese carry-out delivered by the acne-infested redhead.

Concerning mako: Forgive me if I've lost you on the properties of mako. I've tried to make it sound sensible as best as I can. The principles make sense in my head, but that's because I see the whole picture, and I'm only telling small details as to the substance's make-up allows it to work as it does. I'm thinking that, when I finish this, I shall add a chapter after the final chapter. Said chapter will be a sort of mako handbook, telling everything from what it is, what it's made of, and what it does to how it works. If you don't mind, I'd like your opinions on this matter.

This chapter has been updated as of 12-10-08.


	6. Through the Window

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any Square Enix related indica, but I do wish I had Sephiroth in a cage . . . in my bedroom . . . where I could . . . well, you get the point.

WARNINGS: Language, violence

**Chapter Six**

**Through the Window**

After Cloud had told Sephiroth his motive for killing Matthew, the white-haired man had managed to reign in his anger well enough so as not to frighten the blond. He fumed on the inside, but refused to let it show . . . not just yet anyway.

Cloud hadn't uttered a single word since he'd told, and Sephiroth could think of no way to fill the silence without venturing into hazardous grounds. He'd known before that Cloud had been traumatized to a severe degree, but now that he knew, he couldn't help but feel even more sympathetic toward him. Teenage boys weren't supposed to be this introverted. Perhaps Cloud was just used to a lack of civil company . . . or maybe he just didn't want to talk. Then again, Sephiroth couldn't blame him for his silence.

Cloud had curled onto the couch, holding his knees to his chest, and was currently starring off into space with a blank expression on his face. He looked so tired . . . so fragile. In fact, Sephiroth got the impression that Cloud would shatter like a broken mirror if he had to go through anything else. Now that Sephiroth thought about it, he was surprised Cloud hadn't killed himself long before his attempt the day before. The blond's life had obviously been a living hell. His mother had killed herself. Why? Why hadn't his father been there for him? Why hadn't anyone in Nibelhiem taken him? Did he have no relatives he could have stayed with? Evidently not, why else would he have been shipped all the way to Midgar?

He envisioned a little blond boy with big blue eyes alone on a ship headed to Midgar. Someone had to have payed for his ticket across the ocean. The village maybe? They could have just kept him. Why hadn't they? It would have saved the boy a lot of pain. It would have saved the boy from becoming a killer, cold blooded or not. He remembered the first time he'd killed a man. He was seventeen and had yet to be recognized as General by ShinRa. He was, however, a SOLDIER First Class, and had garnered quite a bit of positive attention from the presiding General, a broad-shouldered man by the name of Horokai, his first lover . . . no, more like his first partner. Their relationship lasted one night, and one night only, and was the only time Sephiroth had ever taken the bottom. He'd made sure to be on top ever since then. Not that he hadn't enjoyed it, but none of his other lovers had chosen the position, and he was more than happy to compensate. Enough about the maze of dead ends that constituted his love life, back to the first time he'd killed a man.

He had been sent on an assignment in sector five. A group of rebels had lashed out at ShinRa by attempting to kidnap a politician there, Scarlet, President ShinRa Senior's secretary, and soon to be daughter-in-law to be exact. Sephiroth had been deployed, along with three other SOLDIERs. He hadn't known at the time, but Zack was one, but he could only remember the faces of the others, not their names. He knew for a fact that one was already dead anyway. He hadn't had Masamune yet, just a normal-lengthed katana called Symbiune. His first sword, how could he possibly forget? The rebel group consisted only of four men and a woman. Zack killed one directly upon entering the scene and clashed with another that held up to him equally whilst Sephiroth fought the woman and a tall blond man. The other two SOLDIERS busied themselves with the remaining rebels.

Sephiroth remembered fighting two with ease, he hadn't wanted to kill them, just intimidate them into retreating or surrendering, either would suffice as long as Scarlet was safe . . . his orders. One of the unnamed SOLDIERs had felled his opponent proceeded to assist the other. They soon had him down on his knees, holding up his hands in submission. They then relieved him of the blond man he'd been fighting. He wounded the woman, who was armed with a strange-looking glaive of some sort, with a swift upper swipe. It was only her leg. She'd live. He waited a second to ascertain himself if she'd cause any more trouble. She had gone white and fallen to the ground, currently incapacitated. He turned to check on Zack, who seemed to be having difficulty. The heavily built bald man wielded a club with painfully large spikes, painfully large, and painfully sharp. The big man swung for Zack's head, but Zack had ducked at the last moment to avoid having his head knocked off in favor of a blow to the shoulder, which left a nasty scar that he still had today. The blow hadn't been fatal, but the sheer impact had dazed the dark-haired warrior. Zack fell, one hand over his shoulder. Zack didn't see the man as he raised the club, prepared to deliver a final blow to the back of his head, but Sephiroth did. In an instant, Symbiune had been thrust through his skull. Blood seeped from the man's wounds as he fell face first into the dirt. The first time he'd killed.

He remembered the haunting guilt that never relented its constant nagging. He lost sleep. He'd taken the life of a living creature. He'd stolen everything that man had ever known . . . but he'd saved a life in the process, a life more important to himself. After that, Zack had been eternally grateful and they had become fast friends. Sephiroth wasn't quite as bitter then as he was now. Besides, Zack's thankfulness helped ease the pain of what he had done, but it was still there. It still festered. He was used to that now though, that guilt that came with taking another's life. He had learned that some people are unworthy of living. Some people deserve death. Matthew had deserved Cloud's punishment.

Ten years in an orphanage. Midgar didn't pride itself on civil security. Places like the Midgar Orphanage didn't get much funding every year. How had Cloud survived? He'd likely been emotionally wounded even before Matthew had set in with his . . . sexual harassment. How had Cloud managed to come out on the other side? That was it. He hadn't come out in one piece. Hell, he wasn't even out yet and he was already broken. This one boy had suffered through enough trauma to totally eradicate most others. Sephiroth could tell by looking at Cloud that he was still hanging in there. The boy's shirt didn't cover his arms and Sephiroth could see that the blond hadn't cut himself to relieve stress. Sephiroth had no experience with that sort of thing at all, but he knew enough to know that it was common among teenagers . . . especially ones like Cloud, and Cloud was the worst case he'd ever heard of. He hung his head. He hadn't heard all of Cloud's story yet, but he hoped he would eventually be allowed to know the true extent of Cloud's damage.

He hoped the blond would trust him. He hoped that Cloud would come out with the rest of his problems. Yes, could he tell there were more. He didn't know how he knew there was more to this blond's troubles than Matthew's death and the attempted rape. He just did.

If Cloud would just trust someone enough to tell him his problems, then the weight on his shoulders would be lessened considerably. Now, that, Sephiroth knew from experience. When something ate away at him, he told Zack. Zack always listened. He was unworthy of such an understanding friend. Sephiroth thought back on his treatment of Zack. He always made snarky comments on his friend's hair, his loose personality. How did Zack put up with him?

He wondered if Zack could help the blond sitting on his couch. Probably . . . but a pang of jealousy arose in Sephiroth as he thought of someone else being the one to put Cloud pack on his own feet again. Cloud had already confessed one thing to him . . . Sephiroth had already been allowed a glimpse of this boy's inner demons. He'd already been allowed a glimpse of this boy's almost nonexistent trust. Would Cloud be able to open up to someone else? He didn't think so, at least not immediately. Besides, he wanted the privilege for himself, although, he still hadn't figured out why.

Of course there was more to the blond's distress than he showed in his exterior. He'd lived in the streets for a short amount of time, but any amount of time was too long. Sephiroth studied the boy's eyes. They were beautiful . . . or at least the color was. What Sephiroth saw there was depressing. The gorgeous cerulean orbs were almost dead. They were devoid of any emotions other than pain, fear, distrust, and maybe even a little betrayal. Since when had he become so good at reading expressions? He hadn't, that was another thing about this boy that puzzled him so. He could read him so easily, too easily. And evn stranger was that Sephiroth could only do this with Cloud and no one else. Perhaps because the blond's expressions were akin to his own as a boy. Although, Sephiroth had to admit, he'd never experienced emotions of such intensity as he saw in Cloud's eyes . . . and no one had ever tried to rape him either . . . thank Gaia.

The small form on the couch shifted slightly and Sephiroth watched as the blue eyes came out of their dead trance and drifted to him instead. When Cloud realized Sephiroth had seen the direction of his gaze, the boy automatically turned away, suddenly finding the patterns on the sofa very interesting. Cloud's timidness only reinforced Sephiroth suspicions. Behavior like this had to have been driven into his mind.

Sephiroth suddenly remembered that he'd promised Cloud that, after Cloud told him why he'd killed Matthew, that he'd tell Cloud his position in ShinRa. He also remembered what the boy had said after that. Cloud was right, that was an unfair deal, but a deal all the same, and Sephiroth wasn't about to ignore his end.

"Strife?"

The boy jumped, startled at the sound of Sephiroth's voice. Maybe he'd said that louder than he'd meant, but Sephiroth had trained himself to speak in a commanding manner. He was a military commander, after all. His position had also taught him to use surnames when speaking to a subordinate, but Sephiroth had to remind himself that Cloud wasn't even in ShinRa, so first names would be more appropriate. He mentally scolded himself and tried again.

"Cloud?"

Sephiroth had already gained Cloud's attention the first time he had addressed him, but at hearing the softer tone of his voice, the look of dread on Cloud's face dampened a little.

"You were correct. The deal was unfair . . . but I thank you for telling me." The boy still looked unsure of himself, so Sephiroth added, "And, no, I don't think any less of you. In fact, I think you did the right thing, and, in my opinion, you should not have to face any punishment at all, but I do not have control over the Turks, the ones who will ultimately decide your fate in the case that you are captured. I can, however, influence their decision if the need arises."

Sephiroth paused to see if Cloud had anything to say. The blond remained silent, insinuating that Sephiroth should continue.

"You wanted to know my position . . . I find it amazing that you don't already . . . "

Cloud looked down as if he'd been insulted. Then it struck him that Cloud's ignorance of the outside world shamed him.

" . . . but that's not your fault. In fact, I'd rather hoped I could hold off on telling you until we got to know each other enough to remain comfortable in each other's presence. I'm assuming you'll be staying with me until further notice?"

Cloud's eyes widened considerably, seemingly in shock. "I . . . I don't have to leave?"

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. "Where were you intending to go?"

Cloud's answer was to remain silent.

"As I was saying . . . I'd hoped to hold off about telling you who I am, but, it would seem I owe you the courtesy of upholding my end of our little agreement. "

Sephiroth was aware of Cloud's eyes boring into him as he rummaged through a coat pocket in search of his wallet. He'd intended to show the boy his license, which, of course, would have his name and rank on them . . . Then he remembered how he'd come across Cloud in the first place.

" . . . sorry . . . about that . . . your wallet I mean . . ."

Sephiroth was almost startled. That had been the first time Cloud had spoken of his own accord. Even if it was a self-humbling apology, he'd still spoken without first being prompted. That meant he was growing used to Sephiroth's presence . . . or so the General hoped. The white-haired man opted not to blow his progress.

"No . . . that's all right. I'll just buy a new one."

Cloud dropped his shoulders in apparent relief. Sephiroth hadn't even noticed the blond tense. Maybe he'd been that way throughout the entire conversation.

"Well, I was just going to show you my card, but . . . that was in my wallet." At the look on Cloud's face he added," . . . I can get another one of those delivered by next week, the picture was bad anyway." His pathetic attempt at a dry joke didn't work. Gaia, this kid was more of a lump than himself, but he could see why. Cloud just had too much on his plate. He had so many worries, and it showed.

"I suppose you don't know the order of rank in ShinRa, so I'll explain that first."

The blond nodded once, so he continued.

"At the bottom, you have cadets, usually boys ages thirteen to eighteen, but there are some who are older. Cadets are fresh into the military and participate in routine training daily."

The blond still remained silent. At least the boy's eyes had shifted to him, instead of trying to bore a hole into the sofa . . . or the floor . . . or the table . . . or the space directly over his shoulder. Sephiroth went on.

"After the cadet, the ranks branch into a few subcategories. The lowest would be the trooper. A trooper is someone who has completed and passed all five years of their training as a cadet, but still does not qualify for anything else. Next, comes the Turk. The Turks are a hand-picked group of fighters who usually excel in hand-to-hand combat or the mastery of a small weapon, or gun rather than a sword. Turks carry out assassinations, espionage, criminal incarceration, interrogations . . . that manner of activity. Then you have SOLDIERs. SOLDIERs are cadets or troopers who have passed a field exam and qualified for the position. After passing the SEE, SOLDIER Entrance Exam, one must then go through a series of lab tests, just to be sure of how a man's body will handle mako treatments. No matter how well you do on the SEE, if you fail the mako test, you don't qualify. SOLDIER is divided into three groups: Third, Second, and First Class. A SOLDIERs rank depends on his skill in battle, field work, and several other areas. Any questions so far?"

The only reaction he got from Cloud was a shake of his head. He couldn't help but notice how the blond spikes bounced with the motion.

"In SOLDIER First Class, you'll find your commissioned officers. Officers have authority over all SOLDIERs who are subordinate to their rank. The lowest of officer ranking would be the major. Next comes the captain, then the lieutenant. Then, ranking above all others in the military, comes the General, who commands all other officers, along with cadets, and troopers, but, like I said before, I have no control over the Turks."

Cloud tensed up once again, his eyes looked about to burst from his skull.

_Ah, so he did catch that._

"What was that?"

"I said I have control over all of the military except the Turks. They have their own heirarchy."

"You . . . you're a General?"

"The General," Sephiroth couldn't help but to crack a small grin at the look of astonishment on Cloud's face.

**88888888**

What?! This man before him, Sephiroh, was the General of ShinRa's military forces?! Their commander? He may not have gotten out much, but, with his avid hobby of reading books, he'd read quite a few about all-powerful military commanders such as Sephiroth claimed to be, and Cloud had not a single doubt in his mind that the man was telling the truth. That explained the natural air of intimidating pride that radiated from the man. That explained why Sephiroth's voice held such an indifferent tone that anyone would be willing to obey if it were directed to them. That explained the massive sword rack in the man's bedroom.

Cloud couldn't decide what to say in response to his newly attained information. His brain still needed a few seconds to process the words . . . and their potential meanings. Therefore, Cloud settled on not replying at all, at least for the time being.

His inner voice agreed with him that this man would definitely be a much needed ally when, and if, he was ever captured . . . if he could be trusted.

_Too late now,_ he reminded himself. _You've already told him too much. You have to trust him now . . . _

Sephiroth's eyes remained on him, as if waiting for any further reactions prior to the look of surprise he'd let slip earlier. He couldn't help it. This man was ShinRa's military General. He had control over the whole damned place practically . . . except the Turks. Cloud knew he had to say something, but what?

" . . . That's why you wanted me to join the military . . ." he stated in an unimpressed voice.

Sephiroth was slightly startled at the blond's lack of enthusiasm.

"Hmmm . . . You've certainly taken this better than most. I once had a young cadet wet himself upon just seeing me. I hadn't even spoken to him yet."

"Really?" Cloud allowed the corners of his mouth to curl into a half-hearted smile. He just found the thought of someone pissing themselves in public mildly amusing.

Sephiroth nodded. "I figured you wouldn't react that way, though. You seem to keep your emotions in check well enough."

Cloud actually met the man's eyes at this. Was that a compliment? A compliment meant for him?

Both were quiet as neither of them had yet to come up with anything else to say.

He didn't miss the flicker of Sephiroth's green orbs as they flashed over his body, then back to his face. "Would you like something to drink?"

Cloud nodded shyly, still a bit apprehensive at accepting any form of gratitude from anyone.

"What would you like?"

**88888888**

Sephiroth's inquiring as to his personal preference startled him briefly. At the orphanage, he'd never been given any choice in anything, much less the chance to choose what he wanted to drink. They'd usually be given milk for breakfast, if they were lucky, they sometimes got orange juice. They were served water with all other meals.

"Anything's fine."

Sephiroth disappeared into the kitchen with a nod. A wave of shame washed over Cloud as he remembered what he'd tried to do in Sephiroth's kitchen, but he didn't have time to analyze it as he was suddenly stricken with an odd feeling in his chest. A familiar, yet unrecognizable sensation, like a lump had formed there. Wait . . . a lump . . . this was the way he'd felt the morning after being bitten by that dog. This was the way his reactions to exposure to impure mako had begun.

_Oh Gaia . . . maybe . . . maybe it's not what you think. Maybe it's just . . . it can't be that . . . can it?_

He decided to ignore the odd feelings until he was sure of what they were. He didn't want to tell Sephiroth only to realize afterwards that it was just an ache or something minor.

He looked up as Sephiroth returned, holding out a glass of fizzing purple liquid. Cloud accepted it, and watched as the other man took a sizeable gulp out of his own as he sat back into the recliner.

Cloud tasted the odd liquid in his cup. It was sweet, and it fizzed even in his mouth. He'd heard of sodas from orphans who'd lived with a family longer than himself, and had always wanted to taste one . . . He liked it.

"You like grape soda, don't you?"

Was this man crazy? How could Cloud not like it? It was the first soft drink he'd ever had, but he wouldn't tell Sephiroth so.

Cloud nodded in response. It may have been his first soda ever, but he wasn't known to get very excited about anything.

"A friend of mine left it. I haven't seen Zack in a while, but I don't think he'll mind. He probably forgot it was here, now that I think of it."

Thinking back to what Sephiroth had said earlier. Cloud realized that his question had been expertly avoided.

"You never answered my question."

One of Sephiroth's eyebrows rose in response to accompany his puzzled expression.

"Why do you want me to join ShinRa?"

Sephiroth remained silent for much longer than was comfortable. Cloud found himself wondering if he'd overstepped his boundaries and had ascertained that he was doomed because there was no place for him to hide in the entire place if Sephiroth became angry. Relief washed over as the white-haired man finally spoke without a trace of irritation in his voice.

"You know, I could ask you as to why you do not wish to join ShinRa . . ." He paused as if contemplating something. ". . . but I'm not going to. Cloud, I told you yesterday that you will have to continue mako treatments in order to live, do I not?"

Cloud consciously blanched. He hadn't forgotten, but neither had he been given a solution to his dilemma either.

"That's not the only reason . . ."

Cloud looked back to Sephiroth questioningly. When had his gaze wandered?

"That monster you killed, it was more than twice your size, yet you still managed to take it down. I'm well trained in forensics. It jumped you . . . wounded you. You survived its onslaught long enough to fight back. Most people panic in situations of that nature and resign themselves to their fate, but you didn't. You fought it."

Cloud still remained silent. He could tell Sephiroth wasn't finished.

"Your wounds were quite severe, weren't they?"

Cloud still said nothing.

"Yet, when I found you, you were in bad shape, but you weren't bleeding . . . Your wounds were already healed. Mako doesn't work anywhere near that fast in other people, Cloud. In fact, it takes others around three days to get any effect at all. Once the tainted mako is out of your system, its positive effects will last longer, much longer. It's up to a month at most, but your body uses it quickly, so, maybe a week for you, then you'll need another injection of course. It will take a while for the tainted mako to leave your body, but, until then, you'll need injections as often as every other day."

Cloud couldn't think of anything to say to that, and Sephiroth took his silence as a cue to continue.

"What I'm saying Cloud, is that you would make an excellent SOLDIER. From what I know of you, I have reasons to believe you are capable of keeping a level head in a tight spot. As an added bonus, you react miraculously to mako. You're perfect for the job, and you need the mako to live. What other reason do you need?"

This time, Cloud knew Sephiroth had answered his question fully, and the General had a justified argument to Cloud's refusal to join. Cloud may have tried to kill himself the day before, but he wouldn't have finished it. He hadn't wanted death, just temporary oblivion so his conflicting thoughts would leave him alone, but Cloud wanted to live, and now, he needed the earthy, green substance to do so. Cloud still had one reason not to join, one reason holding him back. He didn't want to relive any of the things Matthew had put him through. He couldn't.

He realized that Sephiroth was watching him once again. Those glowing eyes seemed to peal him apart, layer by layer, examining each one with those piercingly keen eyes. He drooped his head, feeling two inches tall under the intense emerald scrutiny.

Cloud may have told Sephiroth why he'd killed Matthew, but he would not admit to his fears of it happening again. In fact, he had become afraid of practically any male larger than himself, which was pretty much all males in general. He barely held his composure in the company of one man, Sephiroth. He couldn't imagine staying in a room surrounded by other men, teens or not. And didn't men in the military all shower together at the same time? Cloud shuddered at the mere thought. His nervousness would drive him to paranoia, if he hadn't succumbed to it already. He couldn't join the military. He was just too afraid of that incident happening again. What if someone else took and interest in him? What if they turned out to be just like Matthew?

**88888888**

Sephiroth watched the blond as many emotions played across his face. There were many, but fear was the only one Sephiroth could lable, the others he'd either never seen before, or were so mixed and complex that the English dictionary no longer held the words to describe them. Or maybe Cloud himself didn't even know what they were. Therefore, his body couldn't possibly know how to display them. He may not have seen any of the other emotions, but /ear was definitely there, and was undoubtedly the strongest.

_But fear of what? Dammit Cloud, just tell me what's wrong. If you could come out with both a murder confession and the revelation to a near stranger that you'd almost been raped within the same day, surely you can tell me what you're afraid of as well. _

"I want to join ShinRa, Sephiroth. I would like to be in SOLDIER, but . . . I just /can't/."

He arched an eyebrow. "Why not?"

The teen's only answer was to lower his head, again, and shake it stubbornly.

Sephiroth had begun to lose his patience. He wasn't angry at Cloud, just frustrated at the intricacy of the puzzle the boy posed. He made the decision to look at the blond's situation from his point of view.

He imagined himself in Cloud's body. A small, half-starved orphan with no friends, or ties to the world outside the confines of an old building he'd lived in for ten years. Sephiroth felt depressed already. He continued his day dream. He imagined a boy who was larger than himself often forcing him into unwanted sexual contact. The boy in his mind's eye tried to rape him, but he narrowly escaped. He imagined he'd feel angry . . . and scared. Scared of Matthew, but why would Cloud be afraid of Matthew now? The boy was dead. Cloud had killed him himself, albeight accidentally, but he was still dead. The blond had no reason to fear Matthew anymore.

Then he remembered the other boy . . . the witness, Arlex Rainwater. He knew that boy had to have been more than a witness. After all, Cloud had said he'd stolen Arlex's knife and used it to kill Matthew. He had a faint suspicion that the scar on Cloud's neck was from that knife, due to the boy's earlier body language. So, both Matthew and Arlex had a go at him. He imagined, if he were Cloud, he'd have feared them both, but what could Arlex do to him now? How would Arlex affect Cloud's fear of the military?

Sephiroth thought back on what little he knew of Cloud's behavior. The blond was submissive beyond reasoning and incredibly alert, as if he expected someone to attack him out of nowhere at any moment. Cloud acted afraid of everyone . . . no . . . Sephiroth had only seen the boy around one person . . . himself. Cloud acted as if he were afraid of him. What did he, Arlex and Matthew have in common? They didn't look alike, Matthew's picture had been broadcasted on the news. Besides, Sephiroth seriously doubted anyone looked like himself. Maybe Cloud was like this around everyone? Maybe he . . .

Then it hit him. The realization so obvious that he couldn't believe he had missed it. Cloud feared men. Not just Matthew . . . Not just Arlex . . . Men. Now it made sense. Cloud didn't want to join SOLDIER because of all of the other males there. He was afraid of life in the barracks. He was afraid of a repeat of past experiences. Now that Sephiroth understood, maybe he could find a solution to the problem. He decided not to voice that he knew of the blond's fears aloud. After all, there was no need in further humiliating a being that already inspired his pity so.

Yes, Sephiroth had a plan. What Cloud needed was someone to cheer him up. Cloud needed to spend time with someone who knew how to have fun. Cloud needed what he liked to call, 'Zack therapy.' Zack possessed a charismatic attitude and a sense of humor that could make even the most stoic of rocks laugh. Yes, Sephiroth was positive Zack could instill some confidence into the boy.

He had grinned slightly at his formulation of a possible solution to Cloud's habits and fears. Cloud had evidently noticed, as he was now studying the white-haired man with a questioning expression. Sephiroth vanished his grin, as he had learned that most people found his smile unnerving.

He glanced at the clock over the television. It would be a few more hours before Cloud would need more mako. What could the blond do to stay occupied until then?

**88888888**

Cloud's fingers had grown numb. Yes, he was nervous again. This time his the chill in his digits hadn't been caused by fear, but uncertainty. Sephiroth had seemed lost in his own little world, when an unusual grin flashed across his ethereal features. The grin was unusual because Cloud could think of no other words to describe it. Feral? Cunning? Sly? This unknown gesture set his nerves on alert. He had trusted this man enough to confide in him his ordeal, but he still didn't feel comfortable being in his presence. After all, the man had said that many people have radical reactions to him. At least he hadn't feinted . . . or wet himself, but that was only because they knew of the man's power, his rank. Cloud on the other hand, he didn't feel so . . . so powerless around him because he was a General. Cloud felt this way because of the messages the man sent subconsciously. His body language spoke of unrivaled grace and agility. The man's mere appearance spoke of power . . . strength. Cloud didn't particularly fear Sephiroth . . . he just didn't know how to feel.

The white-haired man seemed like he wanted to help him, and Cloud had accepted that fact even though he couldn't fathom why. Sephiroth hadn't hit him yet. Hell, he hadn't even bothered to insult him verbally like most, calling him useless, worthless, or . . . Gaia forbid, Matthew's favorite, little whore. He had given him much needed food, the best food he'd had in ten years at that. He'd given Cloud the first soda he'd ever tasted, and it was a good one. Cloud couldn't help but wonder, when would Sephiroth's hospitality come to an end? When would the man throw him back onto the streets?

"Would you like to watch a movie?"

Cloud's head jerked up at the deep voice. He had slipped into his own thoughts. Cloud's eyes darted to Sephiroth's face. The eerie smile was gone, now replaced by a well-honed facade.

"Umm . . . What was that again?"

"Would you like to watch a movie?"

Like a soda, Cloud had never before seen a movie either. Like he'd said before, the orphanage had no mako energy to provide power. Although, he had heard about them. Many of the children who had spent longer on the outside had often complained about not being able to watch their favorite shows on television, and most spoke of fictional characters from movies they'd seen. They never spoke to him, naturally, but he had always had a sensitive sense of hearing. Being a loner had taught him that observation was the best way to learn. Now, with the mako, he could hear a feather fall in the next room if he tried.

"Yeah, I'd love to watch one!"

He didn't get this excited often, but, from what he'd gathered, movies were like books, except you didn't have to read them.

Sephiroth had a wide collection of DVDs underneath the television. Most were unopened. The white-haired man told him to choose one he'd like to see. Cloud felt vulnerable as he turned his back from Sephiroth, but he vehemently fought down the urges to glance routinely over his shoulder. He didn't feel completely safe around the man . . . He never felt safe around anyone. He chose one that looked interesting. A yellow box with a woman and sword on the front cover.

Sephiroth took it from him and proceeded to put it inside the player. Cloud had never seen a DVD player before either, so he was grateful the man had operated it for him, saving him the trouble of experimenting with the unfamiliar buttons.

Cloud placed himself back on the couch where he could watch the movie. He got comfortable, not wanting to miss anything.

**88888888**

Sephiroth watched as a small smile spread over Cloud's features. The first one he'd seen from the boy, although it wasn't genuine, it was still something. He sat across from the blond and began to lace up his boots. At Cloud's questioning glance, he explained, "I'm leaving for a while. I have business at ShinRa."

Yes, Sephiroth /did/ have business at ShinRa, more paperwork, but the damned papers could wait. Sephiroth wanted to speak to Zack. Zack needed to know about Cloud. Sephiroth looked back to said blond. "If you get hungry, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. When the movie is over, you are welcome to watch another. I'll be back in a few hours." Sephiroth decided to leave it at that. He knew the boy wouldn't run away, he already seemed engrossed in the film, and the previews weren't even over yet. Cloud didn't seem like the type of person to snoop in other people's things either, on the contrary, he seemed to be afraid to so much as sit on the furniture. Confident his home would be in one piece and the blond would still be here when he returned, Sephiroth walked out his door with one last glance at the boy, reminding himself to remember to be back in time to administer a mako injection.

**88888888**

Sephiroth was leaving him alone in his apartment?! Cloud was shocked to say the least. Sephiroth actually trusted him enough to leave him here? For all he knew, Cloud could snatch anything of value and make a break for it. He'd already tried to take the man's wallet! To Cloud, this was a new experience. No one had ever believed him capable of being trusted. At the orphanage, most of the staff kept a pretty suspicious eye on him. He did act very sneaky sometimes, but that was only because he didn't want to be noticed. Back at Nibelhiem, well, the villagers always had always looked down on him as if he were some type of grotesque insect, and his mother had always practically ignored him.

Sephiroth puzzled him to say the least. Cloud had so many questions. Why did he want to help him? Why did he seem to trust his word? Cloud could've easily lied about Matthew's death. He could be lying about nearly being raped, but Sephiroth believed him, even if he was a thieving murderer he'd literally picked up off the streets.

Cloud was enjoying the movie quite a bit. The blond woman, the star, was now extracting her revenge on a brunette for participating in the murder of her unborn daughter. He was completely absorbed in the knife fight until his stomach demanded that he get off his lazy ass and go find sustenance.

Cloud found a button on the DVD player that said pause . . . he assumed it stopped the movie, so he pressed it. Yep, the movie froze whilst the brunette was in mid swing . . . interesting. Now the apartment was chillingly silent. Cloud went to the kitchen, his bare feet padding quietly on the cold tile floor. He stared at the corner where he had cut himself yesterday. Was it just him, or was there still a slight trickle of blood in the cracks of the tiles? Guilt rose like a balloon in his chest. How could he have done that to himself? How could he have betrayed himself again? He shook those thoughts away, adding a vow never to do anything of that nature again.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Had he just heard something from the den? The sound of cloth billowing in the wind? He was indoors, there was no wind. Maybe Sephiroth had opened a window and the curtains were being blown. No, it was just his mind playing tricks on him in the silence.

Looking around Sephiroth's kitchen, he found himself a bit perplexed. Like many other things, this was also a first for him. He'd never prepared his own meal before. It couldn't be that hard . . . right? He opened the refrigerator. Cloud began taking out the appropriate ingredients to construct himself a turkey sandwich. He was debating wether he should use mustard, mayonnaise, or both, but he never got the chance to make the decision.

He cried out as he was grabbed from behind and a large object collided forcefully with the back of his heard. His vision blurred and he fell to his knees. Looking up, all he could see was a distorted mass of dark blue. His head throbbed with each beat of his heart, which seemed to be in his throat and ears at the same time. The blow had been meant to knock him out, but he was still conscious. Cloud blinked madly, fighting to correct his vision. He was vaguely aware of a low male voice as it swore.

" . . . figures one wouldn't be enough . . ."

Cloud watched helplessly as the blob raised its weapon again, whatever it was. He closed his eyes, knowing what would come. He felt a second blow connect with his temple. His ears began to ring and his vision flickered to red, then black, then red again. He was now lying on the cold tiles, though that didn't register in his rattled brain. His vision flickered to black again, but this time, it didn't revert. His mind soon followed into the darkness as he felt a pair of strong hands drag him across the floor by his arms.

**88888888**

Sephiroth had been searching the entire building for his second in command and still hadn't seen so much as a single dark spike of unruly hair. Frustrated, he returned to his office. Sitting at his desk, he noticed a blue notice of deploy lying apart from all of the demonic stacks of paperwork. He curiously lifted and noted the name. Faire, Zackary. So, he couldn't find Zack because said brunette was on an assignment. Why hadn't he learned of this sooner? Because he'd been too busy tending to the needs of an abused, teenaged, mako withdrawn orphan with suicidal tendencies.

Sephiroth opened the seal on the dispatch and read to discover that Zack had been sent off to North Corel to deal with a few monsters that had been terrorizing the townspeople. He was due to return later tonight.

He glanced at his computer's clock. He needed to get back to Cloud. Sephiroth was sure the blond was beginning to feel his body's need for mako by now.

He left ShinRa Headquarters with Masamune strapped to his back and decided he'd take a taxi cab home so as to avoid the crowds. The driver, a haggard looking man who looked as if he hadn't shaved in three years, had him in front of the apartment complex in ten minutes.

He ascended several flights of stairs. He wasn't fond of elevators, and continued to his door. He knocked, expecting Cloud to answer, but he heard nothing from the other side of the door. Wasn't the boy watching a movie? Maybe he'd gotten tired and fallen asleep, but wouldn't the movie still be on? Maybe he turned it off. There was only one way find out. He dug for his keys in one of the many pockets of his trench coat and proceeded to unlock the door.

Upon entering the room, he immediately glanced at the sofa, where there was no Cloud to be seen. The television had been paused. Sephiroth opened his bedroom door, suspecting that the blond had gone to take a nap. Cloud still hadn't fully recovered from mako withdrawal. It was to be expected of him to tire easily and sleep often. When he opened his bedroom door, he was disappointed to find the coverlet still as smooth and wrinkle-free as he'd left it. Still no Cloud. The bathroom door was open, so he was confident the boy wasn't in there. Where else could he be? The kitchen? If he was in the kitchen, why hadn't he answered the door?

Sephiroth returned to the den.

_Why is it cold in here? The heat is on._

Sephiroth's eyes instantly darted to the open window. He was sure he hadn't been the one to open that. He went to close it, and checked outside for good measure. The ground below was spotless. That ruled out another suicide attempt, and there was no way the boy could have landed safely below.

_One more place to look._

As Sephiroth rounded the corner into the kitchen, he stepped in something slippery. He looked down to his black combat boots, horrified.

_. . . Blood . . . _

The crimson substance pooled thickly on the granite tiles. The counter and refrigerator were both flecked with red spots. He also noted that several food items lay out on the counter. All of this, but no Cloud in sight.

_Planet be damned, where is he?_

At this point, Sephiroth was sure the blond hadn't done this to himself.

_His body would still be here . . ._

He further examined the bloody floor. Streaks led to the opposite side of the room and another open window. Crimson dripped from the ledge freely.

Sephiroth made his way to the window, careful not to disturb his liquid evidence. He looked out . . . once again, nothing. This was the work of an expert. Cloud had lost so much blood. Sephiroth was positive he'd been unconscious. No one could stay awake with this much blood loss, not even himself. The more he thought about Cloud's situation, the more he panicked. Yes, he, the almighty Great General Sephiroth, was panicking, but his exterior didn't show it. Cloud had lost all of this blood, and he needed a mako injection fast. Sephiroth guessed the boy was in stage one of withdrawal by now. Nausea and headaches, that is, if he was even awake, which thw white-haired man very much doubted. Sephiroth knew that, if the boy wasn't found soon, he would inevitably die, if he had not died of his wounds already.

But Sephiroth had no idea where to start. He had no idea where to begin his search. He could follow a blood trail, but surely Cloud's abductor got into a vehicle at some point. That would only lead him to a dead end. What now? Just give up and forget the boy had ever existed? No, so many others had done that . . . So many others had hurt him by letting him down, but he wouldn't. He'd told the boy he was going to help him. He wasn't one to go back on his own word. But where to search?

Sephiroth stared blankly at the window, rage building in his heart. Who would do this? Why? Then, as quickly as the rage had come, it was replaced by excitement. There, in the upper corner of the window, was a thread. A navy blue thread was caught in the cracked grain of the frame. His mind made the connection instantly. Tseng had suspected Cloud's presence here. Tseng was the leader of the Turks. Turks wore navy blue uniforms.

Sephiroth knew where Tseng would take Cloud. The Turks were in charge of a special division of cells in Midgar Prison. Anger roared into him as he thought of the black-haired Turk. Sephiroth tightened Masamune's hilt to his belt and began his race against time. Midgar Prison was all the way on the other side of the city, and Cloud's life depended on his arriving as soon as possible.

**88888888**

Author Notes:

Well, here's another chapter, and quite a fun one to write might I add. Though, I must admit, I had set a goal for myself to finish it two days ago . . . and I obviously failed. I couldn't help it. My friend introduced me to an online RPG called Maple Story and the time kind've slipped through my fingers.

The next chapter is going to be an exiting one, I promise you that. Sephiroth saves the day! Well . . . almost. What do I mean by that? Well, you'll just have to wait and find out.

Ransom Note: 

Feed me reviews or Cloud shall die a very painful death.

Just kidding! But reviews are still nice though . . . No, they're more than nice, THEY ROCK!

This chapter has been updated as of 12-10-08.


	7. Flames

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any Square Enix related indica, such as characters, settings, etc.

WARNINGS: Violence, Language, OC, Evil Pyromaniac Bastards.

**Chapter Seven**

**Flames**

When Cloud woke, the first thing he noticed was that he was cold. That, and his head felt as if someone had cleaved apart his skull with an axe. He heard a weak moan, but couldn't tell where it was coming from. Then he heard another . . . from himself. The moans were coming from him! He didn't need to bother with sitting up, he was already thus. He could tell because he could feel the cold of chilled stone pressed vertically against his bare back. Where was he . . . and where was his shirt for that matter?

He opened his eyes, expecting darkness, but, instead, everything was doused in a soft cerulean glow, which, he soon realized, was coming from his own mako-enhanced eyes. He'd guessed right. He was sitting up, but not on his own volition. That was when he noticed the bite of cold metal against his wrists.

_. . . !? . . ._

He was shackled to the wall. Now that he'd become aware of his body's situation, he also gained awareness of its discomfort at the position he was in. His arms ached beyond reason, and his knees ground painfully into the icy stone floor. At this realization, an alarm sounded in his mind. If someone tried to hurt him now, he would not be able to fight back or run. He was trapped. He gave a few weak tugs at his accursed metal bonds, but to no avail. His body was weak, and, with each exertion, his head pounded even more, so he decided struggling would not be the most satisfactory choice for himself at this moment.

His eyes had further adjusted to the dim lighting of his prison. Adding this to the light produced by himself, he could now see quite clearly. He was in a small cell. He couldn't see above him, but he assumed there must be a window there. It must have been dark out. That would explain the cold. Midgar's temperature always dropped at night because of its being so close to the Northern coast. Not to mention, winter had officially begun its course. Cloud shivered and continued the observation of his surroundings. The wall in front of him was dedicated solely to a heavy-looking iron door. Both walls to the left and right of him were boarded with wooden planks. He wondered vaguely why a cell would have two walls made of wood, and one made of stone.

_Probably so these damned chains can't be pulled away. It's not like I'd be able to free myself from a wooden wall right now either. Why am I so weak now? Isn't mako supposed to make me stronger?_

As if to answer his question, that familiar lump returned to his chest. He couldn't see it, as it was not physically there, but he could feel it, and it suffocated him. With the lump, as he'd learned, came the nausea. The last time this had occurred, he'd had no food in his stomach to lose, but now, he wished he hadn't eaten what Sephiroth had offered. He found himself retching on the floor in front of his knees. Great, now he'd have to smell vomit for only Gaia knew how long.

His body had reverted into mako withdrawal, and at the worst possible time. Although his head hurt, he knew it wasn't from his body's lack of mako. This pain was different . . . new. He could feel something matting down his blonde locks, but what? Then he remembered. He'd been hit in the head with a heavy, hard object . . . twice. The thick substance in his hair must be blood, and his attacker must have brought him here.

Who was his attacker? Had Sephiroth been acting the whole time? Had the man turned him in for the sizeable reward he knew had to accompany his capture? Sephiroth certainly looked strong enough to crack his skull.

_So . . . it was all just a lie, just a great big lie . . . like Arlex . . ._

Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He'd actually begun to trust someone, Sephiroth, and, just like everyone else, he'd betrayed him too. That was it. Never again would he open up to anyone. Never again would he so much as speak to anyone else. If the rest of the world's population wouldn't accept him for who he was, then he didn't want to be accepted, and he was not about to change himself just for them.

At that moment, the iron door protested loudly as, presumably, someone pushed it open it from the outside. When the bright light from outside his cell reached his eyes, Cloud's fractured head screamed at him. When his vision recovered from being practically blinded, Cloud saw three men enter his cell, all of them wearing dark blue suits. Two of the men, the two largest, Cloud noted, took up guard stances behind the first. The smaller man, though still quite tall and menacing, stepped forward.

"There were no problems getting him, Rozz?" The first man spoke to the one behind him. Cloud recognized the voice, but couldn't place it.

"No sir." Cloud recognized this voice too, and he could place it. Rozz was the man who'd knocked him unconscious, not Sephiroth.

"Sephiroth didn't interfere?"

"No sir, I waited until he was out of the apartment."

"Good, good." The first man nodded. So, Sephiroth hadn't been a part of this at all. Guilt rose in Cloud's chest, an almost alien weight on his mind. He had never felt sorry for anything he'd done before. He was generally the one bad things were happening to. He had immediately blamed Sephiroth without much thought after all the man had done for him.

"You left no evidence behind?"

At this question, the big man, Rozz, shifted nervously. At his silence, the smaller man turned.

"Answer my question Rozz." The voice was quiet and threatening, dripping with potential violence.

"Yes, sir. There was blood."

"Blood. I thought I told you to make it clean." The man's voice had risen to an angry shout. At this, Cloud was able to recognize it fully. This was the same man who had visited Sephiroth earlier that same day. This was the man who's argument with Sephiroth had woken him this morning. This man was Tseng. This man was a Turk who had the power to prosecute him for his crime without a trial at all. This man would be his bane if he could not escape. Either that, or the thick green substance in his veins would drive him mad first. He knew the mako had healed his skull fracture somewhat, but it was also causing him so much pain. He didn't know if he should thank it, or damn it.

Tseng crouched down in front of Cloud and gazed deeply into his eyes. Cloud shivered. Tseng's black eyes held only one emotion, and Cloud rather prayed he had labeled it in error. The Turk's eyes were full of cold, bone chilling hatred.

"Blood . . . How much? Elaborate."

"My tranquilizer jammed. I had to disable him physically. Please forgive me, sir. I . . . it's not my fault he bled so much." Tseng stood slowly and turned around.

"Yes, Rozz, it is your fault. You and I both know there are ways to disable a target without leaving so much as a scratch. I knew I couldn't rely on you in Rude's absence. I should have sent the rookie. I bet Reno would have done it right! But no! I chose you, and you fucked up." To Cloud's surprise, Tseng pulled a gun on Rozz and sent a bullet into the man's knee. Rozz fell to the ground writhing in obvious pain.

While Cloud was happy to see the man who had given him such a killer headache serve his punishment, he still didn't feel it was fair. He turned his eyes away and wished his hands were free so he could cover his ears, so as to not hear the man's heavy breathing and pained gasps as he lay there, crippled. His eyes widened at the realization that Tseng was armed. His vision blurred slightly, but he blinked the ailment away. Now would not be a good time to pass out.

"Should I call a medic?" The other big man spoke.

"No, let him feel his pain as punishment for his foolishness. Rozz will remain here for the duration of this entire interrogation. When it is over, you may seek aid for him, but not until then."

The other man remained standing stoically behind Tseng as if nothing had occurred. Tseng turned and glared at Cloud as if he were a filthy rodent, or maybe he was expressing his disgust for the vomit before him. Whichever it was Cloud couldn't truly differentiate between the two.

Tseng spoke again, this time, to him.

"Thanks to our friend's little mess up, Sephiroth will be hot on our trail. I'm sure of it. Your abduction was meant to look as if you'd run away, like the little coward you are, but," he glanced to Rozz,still panting heavily behind him, "you know how that goes."

Tseng stepped forwards and took his chin roughly in a pail hand. Their faces were so close that Cloud was sorely tempted to spit on him, but wisely remembered the other man had a gun.

_If he would do that to someone who works for him, what will he do to me?_

When Tseng spoke again, the hairs on the back of Cloud's neck stood on end. There was a sense of insanity in his voice. The man was almost laughing.

"I had intended to simply ask you a few questions, and then kill you painlessly with a humane euthanization, but our anaesthesiologist won't arrive until morning. I'm certain Sephiroth will be here by then, so, instead, I'm just going to kill you now to save time. After all, all evidence goes against you. I know you killed that boy. Did you know he was my nephew?" Tseng released his chin with a painful jerking motion.

Cloud looked up to him. If Matthew was truly this man's nephew, why was he in the orphanage in the first place? He further took in the details of Tseng's face. Yes, oddly, he could see a resemblance. The same dark, silky hair. The same cold eyes. The same possessive smirk at having power over someone weaker.

"I searched for my nephew for six _years_, ever since I'd learned my sister had died. When I finally find him, I learn he's been brutally murdered by a disgusting little bastard. Matthew was to become a Turk. He would have been like a son to me."

Cloud flinched at the name. Words usually didn't bother him, but the truth about the father he had never met hurt. Tseng punched him in the jaw with an audible crack. The side of his face was greeted by a sudden burst of intolerable pain and he cried out. Slowly, the pain dulled until he could no longer feel the left side of his face at all. He knew his jaw had been broken.

"Normally, under circumstances like these, I would just shoot you without a second thought." Tseng waved the gun in front of him teasingly. "But, since this case falls so close to home, I think a quick death is a little too merciful for a murderer like you."

He turned to the uninjured man behind him.

"Krall," Cloud couldn't understand the rest of Tseng's words, as they were in a language he'd never heard before. Wutainese, he assumed.

Krall left, dragging Rozz, whimpering, behind him.

Tseng faced him again with a maniacal chuckle accompanied by a matching smile. Whatever had been said between the two Turks, he knew, would bode ill for him.

"Tell me . . . Cloud," his name rolled off the Turk's tongue in disgust, "Can you think of a way to die that is both fast, and torturous?"

Cloud could think of many painful ways to die. They all seemed rather quick too, but he didn't wish to go through with any of them. He didn't want to die at all. Not quickly, not painfully. He wasn't ready. He still wanted to live. Before, he hadn't cared. He had always believed that, when his time came, he would be ready. Now, however, he had seen the outside world. More its bad side than its good side, but the good was enough. He wanted to see more, so much more. Besides, how was he to ever find love in this world if he was dead? Could love even be found?

"Yes, I will avenge Matthew, and Sephiroth will be too late. There won't be anything left of you but a pile of black ashes." Tseng's voice was more a growl now than actual words, but all Cloud could register was the meaning of Tseng's words. Ashes? This could not be good.

Krall returned with two objects Cloud wished he'd never seen. A can of what smelled to be fuel, and a lighter.

Cloud finally found his voice to speak. His words were slurred from the numbness of his face, and pain shot through his neck with each syllable, but he didn't care. "No," he pleaded, "You can't. I didn't want to kill him. I didn't mean to. He made me do it!" His voice sounded small and weak. Of course it did. He was scared, and Tseng knew it. The knowledge only seemed to fuel Tseng's insatiable rage. All Cloud received in reply was a bark of laughter.

"You didn't want to do it? Ha! I've never heard such insanity!"

He took the fuel from Krall and began ceremoniously splashing it against the wooden walls and, more specifically, Cloud himself. Cloud shuddered as the cold liquid dripped from his soaked hair and into his eyes. It stung, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. His pants were now drenched in it as well. He had never been so afraid in his life. Never. He was going to die, and painfully at that. He knew anything he said would be futile. The mako withdrawal was ascending to its highest altitude. Sephiroth was no where to be seen, and he was going to burn to death.

He felt the tears welling up in his eyes, but he didn't allow them to fall. He wouldn't. If these next few moments were going to be his last, he was not going to spend them drowning in self-pity, even if he knew it was justified.

Tseng had emptied all of the fuel and took the lighter from Krall's meaty hands. As he lit it, all Cloud could think of was Sephiroth, and how the man would react to learning of his death. Would he be sad? Would he even care at all? Would he even know? Cloud shook his head. No one would know. No one would care. No one would mourn the quiet boy who everyone hated. Surely there was nothing on this world for him. Nothing. Thus, he prepared himself for death. He was ready. He only prayed burning alive wasn't as painful as it sounded.

**88888888**

Sephiroth's powerful legs pumped as fast as he could make them. He had been running for at least an hour with the tiny bottles of green mako clinking in his pocket with each step, knowing he would need them. He knew where the Turks had taken Cloud. Midgar Prison was all they way on the other side of the populous city. He didn't know how long Cloud had been gone before he had made it back to the apartment to find him missing. Sephiroth knew Tseng planned to kill the blond. Why this particular case angered him so, Sephiroth could not decipher.

He was receiving questioning glances from several bystanders. After all, if you saw a man with a seven-foot katana sprinting down the street with such speed and determination, you would stare too. All of these people knew who he was. He would have to answer countless questions in the days to come, but he didn't care. He would rather answer those questions with the knowledge that Cloud was safe, rather than the knowledge that he was dead.

If only he hadn't left him alone, this would never have happened. Perhaps if he had not stayed away for so long. Maybe the abductor would have missed his chance.

He forced those guilty thoughts away. He could not blame himself. He couldn't have known the Turks would go as far as to take Cloud right from beneath him. Right from his own apartment. He was going to complain to the ShinRa executives like a pregnant woman on a hike when this was over.

Sephiroth had been so lost in his thoughts and the concentration of keeping up such an unforgivable pace, he hadn't even noticed when night settled over the city. What were the Turks doing to Cloud? More specifically, what was Tseng doing to Cloud? He had told himself no one would ever harm the boy again, not for as long as he was alive to have something to say about it, yet, at this moment, Cloud was in possibly in the most unsafe location for him at the present. Sephiroth was letting himself slip. He had never before fumbled the situation so severely that someone was in danger of losing their life.

While he had promised such things to Cloud in his head, he hadn't bothered voicing his thoughts aloud. The blonde probably thought no one would come for him. Cloud probably thought he was going to die. Sephiroth wished he could know what tortures Cloud was being subjected to at the hands of the Turks.

He was almost there. The fenced-in fortress was now visible over the tops of the surrounding buildings. He would have no trouble getting into the main structure, but the Turks' section, that would be a different story. Tseng had likely ordered his subordinates not to allow him entrance, thus the presence of Masamune.

He arrived at the front gate with a slight sweat, but his breathing was as smooth as if he'd just gotten out of bed. After noting a small stream of smoke drifting from the back of the facility, he calmly made his way to the entrance, where he was immediately admitted. The inmates were probably burning trash. He continued down the reinforced, stone hallways calmly. Underneath his stoic exterior, he wanted nothing more that to race madly toward his destination, but didn't, knowing it would raise suspicion. Then, he might not get in at all, and Cloud would be doomed, if he hadn't been already.

His thoughts as he walked through the rows of cells and their occupants were quite violent. Sephiroth was not generally a very creative person, but when it came to formulating methods of torture, he was a god. He couldn't kill Tseng. ShinRa needed him unfortunately. While he utterly detested the man, he had to admit, he was quite useful in times of war. No, he wouldn't kill him. He planned to inflict pain on the Turk until he begged for forgiveness. How much pain he inflicted upon Tseng depended on how badly the blond was hurt. There had been so much blood. What if Cloud had already bled to death?

Sephiroth reached the Turks' level of the prison, which many fondly referred to as The Snake's Layer because, like a snake's layer, many who entered never came out. Sephiroth's nose was immediately greeted by the suffocating smell of smoke. The usual entrance guards had gone, most likely to seek fresh air. He had to find which cell they had thrown Cloud into. He continued down the dimly lit hallway until he encountered a large man standing outside an iron door.

The man had undoubtedly been expecting him, as he pulled a machine gun on him as soon as they'd made eye contact. Well, he'd found Cloud's cell then.

The man held the gun shakily, his finger threatening to pull the trigger. Sephiroth charged him with Masamune held eye-level. The man began to fire as soon as his reflexes allowed him to, but was too slow. Sephiroth swept the flat of his blade against the gun barrel before the man could take aim, and knocked the gun aside. Now the man was defenseless. He made a mad scramble backwards for the gun, but Sephiroth brought his sword back down and the big man fell to the ground. He had been cut from his shoulder to his opposite side, and the wound was quite deep. He would live, but he was out of commission for now. Sephiroth didn't bother finishing him off, Tseng was his target, and he suspected that both he and Cloud were on the other side of the door.

The door . . . it was locked, and it looked quite sturdy. Sephiroth placed his hands on the iron, searching for a weak spot, and, to his horror, it was searing hot. He quickly withdrew his hand. The smoke, the heat. That meant one thing.

_Weak spots be damned._

Sephiroth took a few steps back, and lunged forwards with all of his strength. He threw his shoulders into the downward thrust of Masamune, and a clear ring sounded throughout the stone dungeons. At first, it looked as if Sephiroth hadn't touched the door at all. Then, as he stepped away, the cut became slowly visible as the door fell in two massive pieces. An alarm blared as the door gave in to its demise, and billowing smoke enveloped Sephiroth instantly.

For a moment, Sephiroth stood, staring into the roaring flames, hesitant to proceed. Contrary to thepopular belief, he was not immortal. What if his hair caught on fire? He would burn to death . . . If not, he would be bald for the rest of eternity.

_. . . but Cloud's in there . . ._

He sheathed Masamune, convinced Tseng wouldn't stick around in heat like this, and shrugged his coat higher on his shoulders. Ignoring the alarm, he plunged into the heat. Once inside the small cell, he noticed most of the flames were on the side wall, not the back.

_That's odd._

The heat seared his eyes and made them water, but the flames barely touched him. The smoke was more of a bluff than anything, but it still made breathing difficult. Cloud couldn't still be alive. Surely the blond had suffocated by now, but he had to check. A gap in the fire appeared, and he caught a glimpse of an arm chained to a wall. He pushed through the fire, his coat protecting him from the intense heat. There, manacled to the back structure, was Cloud. Luckily, the flames hadn't made it to him yet, but were dangerously close. Their wispy tendrils lashed out and scathed his bare chest and torso, but none caught, despite the fact that the boy was drenched in flammable fuel,another aroma that pervaded the white-haired man's nostrils.

He tore the shackles from the wall, and the unconscious blond fell into him. Sephiroth could feel the heat radiating from his skin. He had been slightly burned from the close vicinity of the fire. How was he supposed to get Cloud back through the flames without the combustible liquid catching?

He lay Cloud against the wall while he quickly removed his coat. When it was off, he wrapped it around the blond, and lifted him into his arms. Making sure every last pale spike was safely tucked away. He dodged back toward the door at lightning speed. Sephiroth's bare chest stung and the flames licked around him. He felt the pain of their bite on his exposed arms, but held his precious cargo tightly.

He nearly stumbled over the unconscious guard on his way out, but caught his footing before he collided with the adjacent wall. He wanted to check Cloud's condition. He didn't think the teen was breathing, but he had no time to do so. The alarm had done its duty. He turned at the sound of a dozen pairs of combat boots marching behind him. Tseng had sent mere troopers to dispose of him? No, the Turk had sent them as a distraction. The snake was undoubtedly fleeing the building by air, acting on fears that Sephiroth would chase him down, and he would, but after he had tended to limp body in his arms.

Sephiroth always wore spare materia under his coat sleeves. Now, the thick leather straps that held them were visible to all. The band of troopers halted as the fire materia began to glow ominously. Sephiroth combined its power with that of a wall materia, and cast. A roaring wall of fire sprang between himself and the troopers. They wouldn't bother him now.

He carried Cloud away from the flaring wall, and lay him down gently, removing his leather coat from the feverish blond. Panic shot through him. As he had feared, Cloud was not breathing. Luckily for both of them, standard military training also included many courses on cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR).

Sephiroth tucked his hair behind his ears, pinched the blond's nose, and covered the blue tinted mouth with his own. He gave Cloud two desperately needed breaths of air before ascending to proceed the chest compressions. The white-haired man placed his hands in the center of Cloud's chest, and began to push downward strongly, forcing the boy's heart to pump blood into his brain. After thirty pumps, he descended again to administer breaths. After the first one, Cloud coughed and inhaled greedily, gasping for air. Dazed, glowing eyes sought him out without recognition. Cloud whimpered slightly before closing his eyes again from exhaustion.

Sephiroth looked over the still-thin body. He had noticed the darkening bruise on Cloud's face immediately and, during his resuscitation, had been sickened to feel the blond's jaw move loosely . . . broken. He cupped it gently in his hand to ascess the damage. No, not broken, only dislocated. He breathed a small sigh of relief. Fixing a diplaced jaw didn't include pins and screws. He applied the gentle pressure himself until the joint slid stubbornly back into place. Blue eyes flew open, accompanied by an outcry of pain.

"Shhh . . . I'm sorry." He stroked the teen's hair until his breathing slowed to some resemblance of normalcy once again. Sephiroth could feel the heat radiating from his body even through his gloves.

He quickened his pace and checked over the rest of the young body. Cloud's skin was red in many places, only slightly burned, but his left leg had actually been engulfed at some point, or so Sephiroth guessed. The flesh there was blotchy and swollen. Blisters had begun to form. Sephiroth knew, that if Cloud were fully conscious now, he would be in utter agony. The mako had most likely saved his leg from being burned to cinders. The substance possessed antiflammable components which turned out quite handy in situations of this nature.

The mako. Yes, he had brought a few bottles, knowing Cloud would need some. Sephiroth couldn't imagine being in both the pain of first and second degree burns and that of mako withdrawal. As if to prove his point, Cloud thrashed against the stone floor, desperately clutching at his head, which, Sephiroth noticed, had two very noticeable gashes.

_So that's where the blood came from . . . _

Sephiroth searched his coat pockets until he found a tiny green bottle of the glowing liquid. Thankfully, they all came with an injection needle. He prepared said needle, and slid it into Cloud's upper arm while holding him down. Cloud's pained breathing was often punctuated by agonized vocalizations. Sephiroth had to get him home to tend to the rest of his wounds. The blond seemed to have regained some awareness, and it appeared he wasn't enjoying it. Sephiroth had been burned a few times, but never this badly, and, judging by the pain of his own smaller burns, he didn't envy Cloud one bit.

He lifted the blonde as gently as he could, as to agitate his heated skin as little as possible. The mere contact was enough, and Cloud gasped from the pain. Sephiroth soothed him as much as he could, murmuring kind words as he brushed a stray lock of sweaty blond hair from his eyes. No one deserved this kind of suffering . . . except Tseng maybe. After he'd taken care of Cloud, he would make the Turk pay for this.

Sephiroth couldn't take Cloud to a hospital. Someone might recognize him. Also, Sephiroth didn't have any of the needed information to check him in without a hassle. The white-haired man knew he could easily override the hospital's authority with his position, but he could also just as easily take care of Cloud himself.

Sephiroth didn't walk Cloud back to the apartment. That would have taken forever. Not to mention, it would be pure torture as fare as the teen's condition was concerned. Instead, he located the parking garage and took one the ShinRa company cars. They were all the same model, and all shared the same key. So, if you had a key to one, you could drive them all. Sephiroth settled the now shivering blonde into the back seat, folding his coat as a makeshift pillow. The fire had affected Cloud's relative body temperature. His body may be shivering, but it was really far too hot for comfort. Sephiroth hastened behind the wheel, and proceeded the thirty minute drive back to his apartment.

During the drive, Sephiroth looked to the back seat often. Cloud seemed delusional, if anything. Blue eyes settled on him. This time, Sephiroth saw recognition there, but it was gone quickly. Sephiroth knew the lethargy was caused by a rise in body temperature due the burns. Cloud needed to be cooled down, and fast.

He eased to a stop in front of the apartment complex, trying his best not to throw Cloud into the floorboards. Cloud cried out as he lifted him once again, but the sound was muffled into Sephiroth's arm and chest. He draped the coat over the boy's fragile body, in case they met anyone in the hallways.

Once inside his apartment, Sephiroth took Cloud directly to his bedroom, and lay him down softly onto the large four-poster. The boy was now emitting a seemingly endless chain of heart wrenching sobs, and Sephiroth couldn't blame him. Now that he had the chance to investigate the damage in a properly lighted area, he saw they were far worse than he'd first seen. He removed what was left of Cloud's pants. The entire left leg had been burned away. He winced in sympathy for the blond's leg. According to the redness there, the damage were bordering on second-degree.

Sephiroth retrieved a bowl of cold water from the kitchen, and began the task of cleaning the broken skin. At the contact of cold on hot, chapped flesh, Cloud emitted what could only be defined as a scream. Sephiroth ceased his actions. The boy was suffering, and Sephiroth blamed himself. If he had arrived on the scene sooner, he could have prevented this. Tears now trailed down Cloud's face. He definitely needed a pain reliever. A strong one, but Sephiroth didn't keep them around. He never used them, but he knew someone who did.

He glanced at his bedside clock. Zack was due back to Midgar from his assignment a couple of hours ago. Sephiroth prayed the man had kept to his given schedule.

**88888888**

Zack thanked the driver of the old blue truck as he shut the door. Finally, he and the two SOLDIER Third Class had made it back to Midgar. Either the monsters in North Corel had been drinking protein shakes, or they had somehow gotten into a natural mako spring. Either way, they had almost been too much for the three of them to handle . . . almost.

Zack led the third class back to ShinRa headquarters to notify the executives of their return. He wondered if Sephiroth was in their office. The man had been known to work late. Oh well, he would find out sooner or later. He had to go up and fill out a report on the assignment.

_Damned report . . . Can't it wait until morning? _Zack yawned from exhaustion.

The SOLDIER Third Class who had been sent on the mission with him departed his company to head down to their respective rooms. ShinRa had to provide housing for all of their employees, even the cadets. Hell, especially cadets. They practically lived here at the ShinRa Academy. Zack envied the other two, as they would no doubt be headed straight to bed.

Zack barely made it into the elevator before collapsing onto the nearest wall with a wide yawn. After pushing the appropriate button so the elevator would take him to the level his office was on, he almost fell asleep on said wall. Had it not been for the fact that he had to urinate so badly it hurt, he might have done so.

Stumbling out of the elevator, he trudged to his office. His bladder demanded that he run with as much speed as possible, but his aching muscles refused to hear it. Why did his office have to be the farthest one from the elevator?

_Because Sephiroth wanted it that way. _He inwardly cursed the General with as many foul insults as his tired mind cared to construct at the moment.

As soon as he entered the office, he didn't bother looking to Sephiroth's desk to see if he was there or not. Sephiroth always worked late. He lumbered directly to the conjoined bathroom, vaguely wondering why the white-haired man hadn't greeted him by complimenting on his current state of appearance with any of his sarcastic comments. Once in the bathroom, he waited so long for his full bladder to empty, that he almost fell asleep standing.

_There you go Zack. Fall asleep standing over a toilet with your cock hanging out. Sephiroth would never let you hear the end of it._

He zipped his pants and exited the bathroom, only to notice Sephiroth was no where to be seen.

_Odd . . . Well, that explains the absence of the dry humor and 'constructive' criticism._

He supposed Sephiroth had chosen this one night to actually get the proper amount of sleep a human required, mako enhanced or not. He plopped down at his desk with an unnecessarily loud thump. He hated doing reports, especially this late. Didn't the ShinRa executives realize that, just like their fat, lazy asses, he needed sleep too? Evidently not.

Just as he removed the proper forms from a drawer and slammed them haphazardly onto the desk, the phone rang. He jumped at the unexpected sound.

_What the hell? Must be a vampire or something. Normal people are all sleeping at this hour._

He seriously contemplated not answering. He had work to do, and, besides, it probably wasn't important.

_But . . . Would someone call at this hour if it weren't important?_

Reluctantly, he reached for the phone at the fourth ring, and picked it up.

"To whom do I owe the honor of this late night call?"

Sephiroth's voice surprised him from the other line. His friend sounded gruff, and . . . out of breath? No, worried? Urgent? This was new.

"Zack, thank The Planet. I was afraid you weren't back yet."

_Afraid? Something's definitely wrong._

"Zack, I know you keep strong pain relievers in your quarters. I need some . . . now."

This was strange. Sephiroth never used pain relief medication, no matter how badly he was hurt.

"Seph, is something wrong? Are you hurt?" Zack was beginning to worry. Sephiroth's behavior was too far out of character for his liking.

"Please Zack, just bring the medicine. I'll explain everything when you get here."

"Seph, did you accidentally shut your balls in the oven or something? Because I know you would never take pain relief before, no matter how hard the medics tried to shove it down your throat."

At that moment, Zack heard a pained outcry in the background.

"Zack, it's not for me. Just bring the damned drugs." Zack detected a definite note of urgency that time.

"Alright, I'll be there in ten minutes. You've got some filling in to do once I get there."

With that, he hung up the telephone. He stared angrily at the paperwork on his desk, before sticking his tongue out at it.

"Hah, I don't have to fill you out until tomorrow."

His personal quarters were a few levels down. He boarded the elevator and retrieved the drugs from his bedroom. He wasn't supposed to have them, so he kept them under a loose floorboard in his closet. The formula for these drugs had been created by one of ShinRa's top scientists, Hojo. While Hojo hadn't good at much else, Zack had to admit, the man could make drugs powerful enough to knock out an elephant. He had stolen them from the laboratory after Hojo had died . . . or retired . . . or whatever . . .

_What happened to that old slime ball anyway?_

It didn't matter. He had other things to think about at the moment. Sephiroth had said the pain relievers weren't for himself. Then who? He remembered the pained moan from the background. It sounded almost as if its owner was dying. Zack began to walk faster, the medicines well hidden inside his uniform.

He had made his way out into the lobby. The secretary and guards may as well have been sleeping. They were as alert as limp, dead, fish. He exited the building and flagged down a cab.

While the driver was speeding down the dark streets, as Zack had ordered, the SOLDIER's mind wandered back to his previous conversation over the phone. He had never heard Sephiroth so . . . so unhinged. The man was usually calm, collected, and all around . . . well . . . Sephiroth. There was no other way to describe it.

_Hmm . . . I leave for three days, and Sephiroth grows a personality . . . Maybe I should go away more often. Next time I go on an assignment, maybe President ShinRa and Palmer will lose one hundred pounds each. Pah, like that's gonna happen. Aeris murdering me in my sleep would be more likely._

His thoughts weren't all that accurate, and he knew it. He had always known Sephiroth had a personality in there somewhere, and a heart too. The man just didn't like to show them in case someone decided to use it against him. After all, he wasn't the man's friend for no reason. Over the years, Sephiroth had shown him more and more of himself gradually. But that had taken years. As far as Zack knew, no one else had the privilege of knowing him so well.

_Then who is in his apartment right now? Who could he be so worried about that he actually let his walls down?_

This was confusing, and the suspense was killing him. The cab driver wasn't driving fast enough. He needed answers to his questions, and he needed them now.

_Maybe he's finally found a lover?_

_In three days?_

_I guess Sephiroth doesn't value his morals as much as I thought._

_But who could pry him open in three days? It's taken me years._

Zack had to admit, he was a little jealous. Whoever this person was, whoever these drugs were for, he was definitely gifted.

At last, the cab driver stopped and Zack leapt out of the seat as fast as he could. He no longer felt tired for some reason, just excited. He almost ran off without paying the driver, but stopped himself. He gave the man the gil, and began a mad dash up to Sephiroth's apartment, curious to discover many things.

Zack knocked on Sephiroth's door once. Then the door swung open inwardly. Sephiroth grabbed him by the collar and pulled him inside before quickly locking the door again, both the knob, and the dead-bolt, the brunette noted.

Then the white-haired man turned to him.

"Did you bring the pain medicine?"

Zack answered by reaching into his pocket to extract the bottle of pills. Sephiroth took it from him as soon as it was visible and rushed toward his bedroom door. Zack followed hesitantly. Sephiroth was acting so strange.

Zack stood at the door and watched as Sephiroth forced one of the large tablets into the mouth of a small blond teenager. He then held a glass of water to his lips and instructed him to drink. The thin boy did so, but weakly. Sephiroth lay him back onto the bed, carefully cradling his head, which was covered in what Zack could only determine as blood, into a soft pillow. The blond's breathing came in pained gasps.

Zack crept forwards, closer to the bed, in order to better assess the situation. The boy was sweating like a snowman in the dessert, and his left leg was covered in what looked to be burns. Bad burns. The rest of his body looked much the same, though of a lesser severity. Tears fell from his clouded blue eyes as he whimpered incessantly, occasionally crying out in pain.

Zack looked to his friend, who was now holding the young man's hand in a loving manner, caressing it lightly. Sephiroth seemed to be waiting for the drugs to take effect.

The dark-haired man leaned himself against the nearest wall, trying to make his presence as unthreatening as possible. He felt as if he were intruding on something sacred. Then again, his white-haired friend had always been foreward. If he didn't want Zack here, then he would just outright say so and demand that he leave.

Sephiroth cared about someone? This blond?

_I was only gone three days . . . right?!_

Several minutes passed as the blond's sobs quieted. Zack watched as Sephiroth reached up to caress his cheek, where a large bruise had begun to fade.

Finally, the boy's breathing evened into long, slow breaths. He had fallen asleep. Sephiroth reached onto his night stand, where a bowl of water sat, and wrung out a cloth. He then began to gently wipe away the blood from the boy's hair. Zack decided it was now safe to speak.

"What happened to him?" His voice was low and soft, as not to wake the resting blond, even though he doubted the boy would wake for a week with those drugs in his system.

"The Turks did this. More specifically, Tseng." Sephiroth paused. Zack was about to ask another question, when Sephiroth began again. "They were trying to kill him, Zack. They were going to burn him alive."

Zack could sense his friend's anger as it boiled inside him, maturing into higher levels. He pitied Tseng terribly. Sephiroth was probably planning ways to kill him at this very moment. Rule number one in the manual of dealing with powerful, mako-enhanced military geniuses with seven foot swords. Never incite their wrath, or else you will die a very bloody and painful death.

"What is his name?" was Zack's next question.

"Cloud. Cloud Strife. The orphan boy from the news."

What was Sephiroth talking about? Zack never watched the news.

"What?"

"Haven't you watched the news?"

"No . . . too boring."

Sephiroth looked up at this. He had been cleaning Cloud's burned leg. Sephiroth stared into his eyes, as if measuring his loyalty.

"Zack, I want you to promise me you can keep a secret."

Zack had never seen this side of his friend before. Of course he could keep a secret.

"Sephiroth, I'm your friend. Friends keep secrets."

"Would you keep a secret even if I told you I was housing a murderer under my roof?"

What was Sephiroth talking about? Murderer? Sure, he trusted Sephiroth's judgment. If Sephiroth trusted said murderer, then so would he. But why had the white-haired man ask him such a silly question?

"Of course I wouldn't tell anyone. If you were illegally housing an entire fleetof murderers, I wouldn't tell a soul."

Sephiroth nodded, then continued his work.

"Seph, is there something you want to tell me?" Zack left his his the wall and moved to stand behind his friend's chair.

The General paused again. "It's a long story. I'm not sure Cloud would want anyone else to know part of it." He sighed. "Promise me, Zack, promise me you won't let him know I told you. After all, he made me promise not to tell anyone else."

"Then you shouldn't tell me."

"Yes, you need to know because I think you can help him."

"Help him?"

"Just listen to the story. Get comfortable."

Zack left from his perch on Sephiroth's and went to sit on the edge of the bed. The blond didn't really take up that much of it at all.

Sephiroth began his story with how he had seen the news broadcast on television, and of all of the events that had happened afterwards. He would tell Zack everything.

**88888888**

Author Notes:

Merry Christmas! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I worked hard to get it posted before Christmas, as a gift. I beg of you not to kil mel for what I've done to poor Cloud, but every event serves its purpose. Why almost kill Cloud? To strengthen the bond between him and Sephiroth of course!

I apologize to those of you who like Tseng, but I had to make him an antagonist for my fic to go as I've planned. Rest assured, not all Turks will be evil, I promise.

This is the first time I've used a point of view other than Cloud's or Sephiroth's. Zack should get to share the lime light too!

This chapter has been updated as of 12-10-08.


	8. Decisions and Laughter

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any Square Enix related indica, such as characters, settings, etc.

WARNINGS: Language

**Chapter Eight**

**Decisions**

Zack listened as Sephiroth told him of the course of events that had lead to Cloud's being here, and as to why he was in such critical state. Sephiroth recalled how he'd seen the teen on the early morning news, then how he had found the murder weapon buried in the body of the massive mako-enhanced dog.

_So . . . Cloud, you're not even a SOLDIER and you've already been subjected to the stuff. I feel for you._

Zack studied the feverish blond as Sephiroth continued to massage a burn cream into his singed flesh, telling him more details of the past events. Cloud was so thin his ribs could be seen through his pale skin. His abdomen hadn't been burned, mostly his limbs. Though, as fare as Zack could tell, his entire body brandished a heated sunburn-like irritation. Sephiroth explained that he hadn't intended to find the teen. Cloud attempted to steal his wallet, and the white-haired man had given chase. Once Sephiroth had realized who he was, he'd brought him here, to the apartment, to administer the mako treatments.

"I didn't think he would make it Zack. He was already in the third stage when I got him here. I think he went into cardiac arrest once. I thought he had died, but his body pulled out on its own. He fought back, and his condition gradually improved until I was positive he was back in the safe zone. When he finally woke, I think I frightened him. He wouldn't look me in the eye, flinched every time I moved."

Zack interrupted, "Do you think he really killed that boy?"

"I'm getting there, just be patient." Zack looked back down to the sedated blond as Sephiroth went on.

Sephiroth continued on to tell him how he had explained the effects of mako to the blond, and of how he would forever have to continue mako treatments, or die.

"I then made him an offer. You see, I've been thinking. Cloud doesn't look like what one would call SOLDIER material. He's far too thin as of now, but he killed that monster, and it was the size of my living room sofa. Then he survived the mako poisoning for well over twelve hours. Most full grown men die within six. All he needs is a little work . . . and a boost in confidence. He might make a fine SOLDIER someday, but, when I offered to let him join ShinRa . . . " Here Sephiroth paused. "Zack, be sure you do not tell him I let you know. When I offered to let him join, he . . . tried to kill himself in my kitchen. I stopped him before he could. He was crying what seemed like nonstop, so I put him to bed, and the next day he acted fine. As if nothing had happened."

Then Sephiroth informed him of Tseng's visit, and how the Turk had found the dagger and become suspicious.

"I planned to question Cloud concerning the truth in his accusations. . ."

A gasp of pain was heard from the bed as Sephiroth brushed the boy's charred leg a little too roughly. Zack watched as his friend soothed the unconscious teen. While he had seen this side of Sephiroth before, usually directed toward himself, it still amazed him. Once again that small pang of jealousy interrupted his thoughts, but he nudged it aside roughly. He knew he could never be more to Sephiroth than a friend, even if he knew the man cared for him more than that. Sephiroth needed someone else in his life. Sephiroth needed more than a friend. He could definitely see the General had begun to care for Cloud, but did Cloud himself know? Would Cloud be good for his friend? Just how much did Sephiroth care? Would Cloud be willing to reciprocate if Sephiroth showed any serious interest? He would have to wait until he actually met the teen in a functional state to answer many of those question.

"My argument with Tseng woke him. After he had taken a shower, I evoked the information from him." Zack squirmed as Sephiroth studied his face. "He killed Matthew, but for a viable reason. It took me a long time to dig it out of him, but he confessed as to why. He told me he had lived in that orphanage ever since he was six. It would seem, when the truth comes out, Cloud is the real victim. According to him, the boy he killed sexually harassed him quite often. The night he killed Matthew, the boy had tried to all-out rape him. It just so happened one of Matthew's partners-in-crime brought a knife into the fray. Cloud got his hands on it and used it in an act of self-defense out of fear. I don't believe he's lying either. His eyes were truthful. Besides, there were far too many tears."

This surprised Zack to say the least. He had been expecting to hear Sephiroth tell him Cloud was innocent of the charges, but this?

"I can imagine he's been scarred for life." He now felt even more sympathetic for the injured blond.

Sephiroth nodded. "That's precisely why I need your help. He wouldn't tell me why he refused to join SOLDIER, but I have my suspicions. I think he's afraid of men in general. He knows that if he joins he will be around other males twenty-four seven."

"Seph, in case you have forgotten, I am a guy! How can I help, he'll be afraid of me too!" Zack shrieked indignantly.

"No, Zack, I have not forgotten your gender. What I'm saying, is you have a way with people. You make others trust you. I think if Cloud can learn to trust one person then more doors will open."

"Sephiroth, are you blind?! The guy has told you so much!" He motioned to the now whimpering form on the large bed. "Seph, he has learned to trust. He trusted you with that information. He trusted you enough not to run away the first day he was here. That's what I would have done!"

Sephiroth remained quiet, eyes focused on Cloud. He looked up into Zack's eyes. "I failed to think of it that way." Sephiroth looked shocked. Zack couldn't help the friendly grin that escaped him. Sephiroth never thought of the good things he did. He was a pessimist through and through, so, naturally, he always focused on the bad. He always tortured himself for being a bad person, for killing men in Wutai War One. Zack had made it his duty to teach his friend to remind him of his good deeds rather than the bad, or else Sephiroth would end up as nothing but a depressed shell of regret. Zack placed a reassuring hand on Sephiroth's shoulder.

"But that doesn't mean I won't help you out. After all, it seems to me as though you've put a lot of effort into this little guy. I'll help you put him back on his feet, and I'll help you keep an eye on him tonight. You look like you could use some rest."

Sephiroth capped the burn salve and stood, covering Cloud with a light sheet, so as not to irritate his sensitive skin. "Thank you, Zack. It truly is a gift to have a friend like you. You go ahead and get comfortable on the couch. I'll take first shift."

Zack nodded and crossed the room to the closet, where he knew Sephiroth kept some extra blankets and a pillow.

_I stay here so often Seph might as well put another bed in his den. Not that he probably wouldn't mind me sleeping in the same bed with him_. Zack's conscience winked at him and he shook his head violently at the onslaught of images brought on by that thought. He really needed to stop being so perverted. Besides, Sephiroth knew he was straight and hadn't tried anything since the hot tub incident, Sephiroth's first and only attempt at romanticizing with him.

He remembered it quite well. He and Sephiroth had checked in at a hotel for a conference in North Corel about methods to control the monsters in the southern mines. They had both decided to try out the hot tub down stairs. Zack hadn't known then that Sephiroth was homosexual, but he did have his suspicions. Nonetheless, he felt comfortable stripping down to his boxer shorts and sitting in a large tub with the man. Apparently Sephiroth had been harboring a crush on him for a while, and seeing him almost naked was too much for the man. Sephiroth had mustered the courage to actually kiss him. Imagine his surprise at finding himself lip-locked with his General, friend, and battle partner. He had gently refused Sephiroth's advances, but he had still rejected him. While he had tried not to hurt him, causing emotional pain was inevitable in that situation and things had been rather rough between them for a week or two. Though he couldn't help but admit that, if kissing were a sport, Sephiroth would be the champion.

After digging through the sea of black leather, Zack came up victorious, holding a deep blue blanket and a plush white pillow. He tossed the pillow onto the couch and sat to remove his boots. "Good thing Seph's couch is comfortable," he muttered to himself. He tossed the boots nearly across the room, aiming for the space beneath the bar, but missed by a whole yard. No matter, Sephiroth had other concerns to attend to other than scolding him for throwing his boots around. Next, off came the thick SOLDIER belt. He despised wearing that thing. It itched like hell, and the straps were so thick they made sitting all but impossible. With that aside, he stretched out and made himself comfortable. He could tell by the look in the Sephiroth's eyes that he hadn't planned to sleep at all with Cloud in such bad condition. He set his watch to wake him up in three hours' time. He had to make sure Sephiroth got at least some sleep.

**88888888**

Sephiroth waited until he heard the twin thumps of Zack's boots falling from their few seconds of airborne glory before he made any move to make himself comfortable. It was bound to be a long night, but Cloud was like this because of him. The least he could do was provide care until the teen recovered. While mako healed many things quickly, he knew the burns would take at least a week even with the extra aid.

He seated himself on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do next. He couldn't help but notice he found himself in this predicament quite often around Cloud. The General was usually confident, and sure of his actions, but Cloud had introduced him to new situations he had never even before contemplated. A few months ago, if anyone had told him he would be nursing a wounded orphan back to health, he would have assumed them to be overdosing on level three narcotics. He shook his head with a sigh.

Now that Zack was out of the room, he decided to further assess Cloud's injuries. He hadn't done so in his friend's presence in fear of letting Zack see how much he had began to care for the blond. Was it fear? No, it wasn't fear. Sephiroth just didn't want anyone to see how inexperienced he was with the simplest things, comforting crying teenagers for example. In his childhood, he hadn't learned these rudimentary acts, as he had never been given any representations to follow. So now, in adulthood, he still didn't know how to act around others, especially those who were weaker than himself by such a large margin. Before Cloud had come into his life, he hadn't even known he lacked these skills. Now he found himself exhibiting his lack thereof quite often. He remembered back to the teen's attempt at suicide. He had comforted the boy well enough then, right? Maybe these acts were pure instinct. Oddly, he now felt the impulse to just stroke the boy's hair as he slept. Were his instincts advising him wisely? That didn't matter. He gave in to his urge all the same.

His fingers sifted lightly through the feathery blond silk. Cloud had sweated quite a bit due to the heat of his burns, yet the yellow spikes still stood with as much fervor as before. He stopped when his fingers traveled over a crackling lump. He withdrew them to find them speckled in flecks of dried blood. Blood?!

Sephiroth parted the nest of blond fluff and discovered a mass of crimson. Most of the blood had dried over the wound, masking its severity. Sephiroth blindly located the damp flannel with one hand and began to gently wipe away the concealing red. What he found underneath shocked him slightly. Two savage gashes stood out like a shark in a fish tank against the field of natural gold. How could he have forgotten them? He had known from the amount of blood left behind by Cloud's abductor that the boy was wounded, yet it just slipped his mind. He resented himself even more for his carelessness. The wound could have become infected and caused Cloud even more problems. While Zack had said Cloud apparently trusted him, Sephiroth wouldn't blame the boy if he altogether hated him after this. That wasn't important now. Now Sephiroth needed to clean the injury. There was no time to berate himself.

He retrieved an antiseptic from his medicine cabinet and began the task, afterwards placing a gauze bandage over it with medical tape. He didn't think Cloud would be happy to wake with an entire roll of bandage wrapped around his head, so this would have to do.

Sephiroth glanced down to Cloud's charred leg. He didn't think putting a bandage on it would be very wise either, nor would it be convenient when it came to reapplying the salve. The rest of Cloud's burns weren't serious enough to merit wraps. The mako in the blond's blood had begun to take care of the minor injuries, as they visibly looked better already. Sephiroth knew it was his leg that would take so long in healing. Ironic, how mako would heal the less important things first.

Sephiroth ran another wet cloth over the thirsty burns before aspiring to finally make himself comfortable. He didn't plan on waking Zack as he had said. Cloud's injuries were his responsibility and no one else's. His coat was lying on the floor where he had discarded it after removing it from the boy, and he had left his shoulder armor at the prison, so there wasn't much else to do. He removed the cumbersome SOLDIER belt, despised and hated by all who wore them, then removed his boots. Unlike Zack's, they weren't abused once as he placed them side by side next to the bed. He lay down, respectively giving Cloud plentiful space. Positive he would be roused at any change in the sleeping blond's condition, he allowed himself to drift into a light sleep.

**88888888**

_Fire._

_Heat._

_Pain._

_Cloud was chained to a wall, his wrists bled as roaring flames surrounded him. The blazing heat scorched his eyes. He was crying, screaming desperately. The pain . . . slow, intense, agonizing torture. He hadn't even died yet and he was in Hell. The blaze flared around him, burning on all sides. Even if he hadn't been bound he still could not have escaped._

_A dark form began to make its way toward him. As it came closer, he recognized it as Tseng. The man's eyes were blazing, just like the flare around him. He shivered as the man laughed darkly, as if possessed. This monster took pleasure from his pain, his tears, his screams. Tseng miraculously stalked through flames, not once did he catch fire, smirking at him with a jagged grin. The demon reached out a clawed hand and stroked his face. The touch burned more than the flames. Cloud voiced his agony in a choked gasp, bawling piteously. His throat was now too sore, too ragged to do much else. The blackened claws dragged across his cheek, leaving behind deep gashes._

_Tseng chuckled as Cloud tried to escape the clawed hand. Then, the demon spoke._

_"Your attempts, Strife, are inevitably futile. You will never be free of me, or my nephew." Cloud's eyes widened in horror as Matthew appeared beside Tseng, a wicked grin spread across his face, barring his dark fangs. Tseng stepped aside, and the spector came forwards. Cloud thrashed at his bindings, desperate now to get away. Then he felt the monster's hands on him, burning, pinning him motionless. Before he had time to react, Matthew's lips were crushing his own. They too burned malevolently. He choked as a snake-like tongue wormed its way passed his lips, exploring every crevice of his mouth. Then the invader pulled away, leaving him shaking._

_"I will get what I want . . . Cloud." Red eyes flared._

_Cloud stared in trepidation, tears flowing freely as Matthew removed his own shirt. He halted his movements in shock. The brunette's abdomen was marred by a long, sloppily stitched wound. He had done that. The older boy had removed the rest of his clothing while Cloud had been gaping at the disfiguration. Then Matthew moved forwards. When had his own clothes disappeared?_

_He pleaded sorrowfully as he felt the unwelcome hands on him, stroking him. Once again, that foul mouth was pressed against his, this time seeking out his tongue in particular. The sharp teeth cut him savagely. When Matthew pulled away, blood oozing down his front, he began to lap at the crimson liquid down Cloud's chest._

_"Delicious."_

_Cloud froze as he felt the proof of Matthew's arousal against his inner thigh._

_"I will have you."_

Cloud gasped hungrily and his eyes flew open. Matthew was gone. Tseng was gone. There were no more flames. He wiped at the sweat dripping from his brow. It had only been a dream. Then why did he still hurt so much? No, he hurt less now, but still, the pain was there, concentrated mainly around his leg. He sat up, immediately regretting the action. He lowered himself back onto the sweat-soaked sheets with a grimace. The pain in his leg made sitting up extremely painful.

He felt exhausted, as if a giant had squeezed all of the energy from his body like an orange. He closed his eyes, but rest would not come. His inner voice kept telling him he was missing a very important aspect of his surroundings, but what?

He finally took notice of the bed's other occupant. Sephiroth. Had the man /carried/ him here!? The last thing he remembered was pain . . . and heat. Gaia, the heat had been so unbearable. Sephiroth must have gotten to him in time after all. Cloud had prepared himself for death, but, it would seem he had escaped its ravenous clutches once again. Or rather Sephiroth had saved his life . . . again. Cloud still didn't understand why the man cared, but that didn't matter anymore. Sephiroth had saved him twice. An image of Sephiroth diving through the hot wall of flames loomed into his head. This time, the man had actually put his own life in danger. He had done more than enough to merit Cloud's trust, but Cloud still couldn't bring himself to trust him wholly. Old habits are hard to cull.

Cloud watched the steady rise and fall of the man's well-muscled chest, knowing he should feel fear of being in a bed with a half-dressed man, but he didn't . . . couldn't. Instead, he felt safe. A foreign feeling he rarely experienced, but recognized all the same. Sephiroth wouldn't let him die. He had definitely proven that. Even if Cloud didn't know why the man would go through so much trouble just for someone as worthless as himself, he was willing to forgo not knowing the answer to that question for now. As he had thought before, the man had definitely earned at least a littleof his trust.

Now that he thought on the matter in depth, he realized Sephiroth had saved his life three times. The mako incident, Tseng, and his suicide attempt. Perhaps he had been wrong. Not all men were cold-hearted bastards. Yes, he could trust Sephiroth. Cloud quickly hushed his inner voice. It said he should stick with his policy. Never trust again.

_Would you just shut up this once?! _he snapped.

He studied the man's face. The stern intimidating facade had crumbled in his sleep, softening his expression substantially. He now looked almost ethereal.

"Thank you," he whispered to the sleeping man as he snuggled back into his side. He had recently learned that body heat was an exceptionally useful source of warmth.

He drifted back into sleep, never noticing the flash of emerald glow from the man beside him.

Sephiroth hadn't wanted to startle the boy, so had chosen to feign sleep. Ironically, he was the one who had received a shock as Cloud had nestled himself down beside him. He hadn't been aware enough to fully contemplate the meaning of the gesture, so he returned to his sleep enjoying the alien tickle of pale spikes under his arm.

**88888888**

Zack rolled off the couch, momentarily forgetting where he had lodged for the night. He groaned at the shrill incessant beeping, willing it to fall silent, or at least tone it down so he could return to his wonderful dream about his girlfriend, Aeris. As luck would have it, however, the annoyance would not relent until he was fully aware of his surroundings. He rubbed his eyes and came to his senses. The beeping was his wrist watch. He had set the alarm to wake himself, but why? Everything rushed back to him in an instant. Right, he was supposed to relieve Sephiroth of his 'post'. Picking himself off of the floor, he massaged his shoulder briefly. Seph's floor really knew how to throw a punch.

He scratched his chest and ran a hand through his mussed hair, then set off toward Sephiroth's bedroom. He opened the door, about to speak, but promptly halted his actions. Now this was a sight! If only he had a camera.

Sephiroth had apparently decided to lie down. Wether he had intended to sleep or not, Zack didn't know, but he had dozed off all the same. The white-haired man lay sprawled on his back, wearing nothing but those damned leather pants. How could he possibly sleep in those? But that wasn't what caught Zack's attention the most. Cloud had wriggled from beneath the sheet sometime during the night and sought out a new source of warmth, Sephiroth. The teen slept curled into the older man's side, head tucked beneath his arm. Zack couldn't stop the grin that flashed onto his face. Obviously neither were aware of their sleeping arrangement, but that just made it all the sweeter.

_Sweet?! Sephiroth sweet?!?_ He suppressed his mischievous mirth and continued forwards, closer to the bed.

He checked Cloud's leg, which seemed to have healed some during the three hours he had allowed himself to sleep. Mako could work wonders, though Zack knew this wound would take at least four days to heal completely. Burns were stubborn. He retrieved the discarded sheet from the foot of the bed, where it had hidden itself from Cloud. He then draped it over the two, and stood back in deep thought.

From what Sephiroth had told him about the days he was gone, he and Cloud didn't seem all that close . . . yet, but it was there. Zack could see it. Sephiroth obviously cared for the blond, and he had yet to meet Cloud, but, from what he had heard, the boy seemed to trust Sephiroth to a great degree, or as much as could be expected from someone with his experiences. Yes, Zack could see at least friendship there, but what about more? Sephiroth had all but given up trying to find someone to live his life with. If Cloud was willing, why not? Sure, there was a twelve-year age gap, but if they worked out for one another, surely that wouldn't matter.

Zack decided he would definitely be investigating this matter further. First off, he needed to meet Cloud while the teen was actually capable of speaking, just to see what kind of person he was. From what he had heard, Sephiroth and Cloud would both be good for each other . . . if they realized it. Zack knew Sephiroth would be hesitant to pursue a relationship with someone so much younger than himself, and he knew Cloud would have a hard time going into any relationship because of the . . . incident with Matthew, but he had to try. Sephiroth wanted him to help Cloud, and he had wanted to do so before hand, but now he had even more of a reason. By helping Cloud back onto his feet, he could help his friend.

_Operation SephCloud initiated!_

**88888888**

Cloud woke in a daze of confusion. Such pain, but where was it coming from? His eyes flew open and a cool cloth was pressed to his brow in an instant. Sephiroth told him to relax, and the confusion abated as his mind caught up. He was in Sephiroth's apartment, and he had been badly burned. That explained the pain.

"We gave you a pain reliever last night. Its effects have apparently ceased." Sephiroth took a bottle from the night stand and obtained a pill from it. He then held it out to Cloud, who took it and placed it in his own mouth as he was handed a glass of tart juice. He grimaced as the white-haired man helped him sit up, the pain in his leg overwhelming. He swallowed the pill, then stopped when his mind had analyzed Sephiroth's words again in retrospect. We?

"Who's we?" He ground out as he was being lowered back onto the bed. He felt humiliated at needing Sephiroth's help in such a simple task, but decided it didn't matter. The man had helped him before with the mako incident and in bandaging his wrist, so Cloud had gotten slightly used to the treatment.

Sephiroth moved aside and Cloud realized there was another man in the room. Cloud blinked enough in five seconds to compensate for the rest of the day. He had thought he had wild hair. This man looked as if he were trying to disguise himself as a hedgehog. The dark-haired man smiled jovially and stepped forwards. Cloud gasped, his deep brown eyes glowed too.

"My name's Zackary, but you can just call me Zack." He had the most cheerful demeanor Cloud had ever seen. Though that wasn't saying much, considering most people Cloud had met were overall depressing, himself included. Cloud had never met someone so seemingly exuberant, therefore had no idea how to react.

Zack placed his hands on his hips and mock glared at him. "What? I know I'm sexy, but I had no idea I possessed the power to render people speechless with my looks. Sorry buddy, I'm taken!"

Cloud, indeed, was speechless, but the cause was not certainly Zack's looks. The comment had caused a rush of blood to his cheeks. Cloud blinked and glanced to Sephiroth, as if to ask if this new acquaintance was on drugs. The white-haired man failed to be of much help, as his only response was to send one eyebrow climbing an inch above the other, something Cloud himself had never managed no matter how hard he had stood in front of a mirror wrinkled his brow in effort.

"Hmmm . . . shy, huh? Oh well, you'll warm up to me. Zack sat on the edge of the bed, Cloud following his every move like a snake preparing to strike. He still didn't know what to make of this . . . Zack. The man was impossibly loud. That, Cloud had decided, but could he be trusted?

Sephiroth seemed to tolerate him well enough, though how Cloud couldn't decide. From what he knew of Sephiroth, he seemed like the type of man who cherished silence and occasional solitude. Zack seemed the polar opposite.

Finally, Sephiroth stepped forwards, relieving Cloud of the pressure of conjuring up a response to this new situation. "Zack," he sighed and shook his head. "Cloud, Zack will be staying here for a while. You don't mind, I hope?"

Although Cloud did not yet feel comfortable around this obnoxious new conundrum, who was he to argue? After all, this wasn't even his home. How could he possibly deny Sephiroth the freedom of deciding who comes and goes?

Cloud shook his head before finding his voice, never once looking away from the spiky bush at the foot of the bed. "I . . . I don't mind." He was convinced if his eyes got any wider they would pop.

Zack rose from the bed. Cloud could practically see the light bulb ignite above him. "I know. I'll make breakfast! Pancakes alright with you, Spikey?" Cloud's stomach gurgled, as if the mention of food had reminded it of its now constant hunger.

"I'll take that as a yes." Zack skipped through the door, presumably destined for the kitchen. Cloud didn't even know what a pancake was, but if it was edible, he was willing.

Sephiroth leaned over him. "I need to check your leg." Cloud watched as he lifted the blanket to reveal his blackened limb. It looked better than when he had seen it the night before.

"It needs more salve." Sephiroth took a green container from the table, twisted off the lid, and dipped his fingers in. When he removed them, they were filmed in a translucent white cream. "This may sting at first."

Cloud flinched as cold creme came into contact with hot skin. Then the salve began to take effect, and he reveled in the resulting relief. He closed his eyes as Sephiroth massaged the medication into his dehydrated skin. No one had ever touched him before with the intention of comfort rather than pain. He decided he liked it . . . a lot.

He had almost drifted back into slumber when Sephiroth's gentle baritone pulled him back.

"I know it will take you some time adjust to Zack, but I think you'll find he makes a good friend. Who knows, perhaps you can even learn to appreciate his crude humor." Sephiroth removed his hand from his leg and recapped the salve.

Cloud was surprised to find himself missing the contact. "He seems . . . happy."

"Yes, I know, but he has been my friend for years. I've gotten used to him. He can be serious when required. Besides, he's the one who brought these blessed pain relievers."

"They work fast." That was true, his pain was already dissipating. Images of his nightmare played through his head and his mood automatically darkened.

Sephiroth seemed to read his mind. "He won't get away with it. You have my word. I'll make sure of that."

Cloud looked down at his hands. "He was his nephew. Matthew was Tseng's nephew. That's why he . . . "

"That still gave him no right."

"I had no right to take Matthew's life." Cloud still hated himself for what he had done.

"That boy had no right to do what he did. His death is his own fault."

Cloud fell silent. Sephiroth drove a strong point. He decided to change the subject.

"I had a nightmare last night, about both of them."

Sephiroth remained quiet, thinking, then he finally spoke, almost in a whisper. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Cloud considered the offer, but decided he didn't want to recall how he had been molested in his dreams by the ghost of the boy he had murdered, deserving or no. He shook his head. Then he made a quick change of subject again. "Do I have to lie in bed all day?"

Sephiroth seemed to accept Cloud's avoidence of the question. "Can you walk?"

Cloud frowned. "Probably not."

"Would you like me to carry you into the den and put on a movie for you?"

Cloud blanched at the thought of being carried, then realized Sephiroth must have carried him on quite a few occasions. Albeight, he reminded himself, he had been unconscious during those times. The thought of sitting in bed all day drove him to his decision.

"If you don't mind."

"Of course not. You don't weigh much anyway. Oh, I almost forgot." The tall man retrieved a bag from a dresser across the room. "Zack took the liberty of buying you some new clothes. He placed them on the blond's lap.

Zack had bought him clothes? But the man had never even spoken to him until a few minutes ago. Nonetheless, here they were, lying on his lap. He reached into the bag and pulled out a shirt first, a dark green sleeveless. He attempted to put it on, but found his arms were stiff from the burns. Sephiroth took the task from him and pulled the shirt down over his head. Cloud hated being so helpless, but helpless was better than half-naked. He then produced a pair of pants from the white bag. Zack had found a pair of black jeans in his size?

"I don't think you need to wear those until your leg is healed. The material will chaffe."

Cloud nodded and pulled out yet another pair of pants. These were smooth and the color of wet gravel. Cloud had never felt a material so soft. He assumed these were the pants he was intended to wear until his burn was healed, but, one problem. How was he supposed to put them on!? He looked up pleadingly to Sephiroth, wishing not to be embarrassed on such a high level. Sephiroth chuckled and took the pants from him. The white-haired man slipped them up his thighs, careful not to agitate the burn, then pulled them over his hips. He could see there were still more items in the bag, so he reached in once more, coming out with a thick hooded sweatshirt. It too was soft. Cloud decided Zack had nice taste in clothes. The hoodie was black, and there was a pair of red wings on the back. Each feather looked so realistic Cloud couldn't help but run his hands over them a few times. He peared into the bag again, which, by now, seemed to possess no bottom. Inside, he could see several pair of socks and boxers.

He looked up, confused. "Zack bought all of this? He's just met me."

"Well, it was my money, but I deducted he would be better suited to pick the clothes out. After all, he dresses like a teenager himself when he's not in uniform." At Cloud's questioning look he added, "He's in SOLDIER, my second in command."

Now that made more sense. Sephiroth seemed to have adopted him in a sense. "Sephiroth?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you doing this? I don't deserve your kindness."

The other man remained silent for an uncomfortable period of time. Cloud feared he had just destroyed their prefatory companionship."You want the truth? I don't know the answer myself, but you're wrong. You do deserve my kindness. I know you've never had much before, living in an orphanage for so long. You're just . . . different. I don't know what it is." Sephiroth seemed lost for words. Finally, he gave up trying to describe his motives, and sighed.

"I understand." Sephiroth studied Cloud questioningly."You can't describe your feelings and thoughts with words. I've learned that, in those situations, you can give yourself a headache trying. You don't have to answer. I don't want your head to hurt all day. I just want to thank you."

Sephiroth nodded and they sat in companionable silence for a while."One more thing. Speaking of headaches, I need to check your other bandage."

_Other bandage?_

Sephiroth stood and helped Cloud sit up. Cloud then felt the man's long fingers raking through his hair. A tingle ran from the back of his neck down into his arms, causing the tiny hairs to stand erect. Sephiroth apologized as he removed a peice of tape, taking several blond strands with it. Now he remembered. He had been bashed in the head twice by, what was his name? Rozz?

Sephiroth removed the old bandage and began cleaning the lacerations with a disinfectant that stung sharply, but Cloud contained his hiss of contempt. Then Sephiroth covered the wound with a new bandage.

"There. You'll need another mako injection before you go to bed, and you should be completely healed by the end of the week, mako poisoning included. Though you'll still need injections, just not as often. The tainted mako is what is causing your body's need for frequent doses. When it's out of your system, you'll appreciate the substance a lot more."

That reminded Cloud of the decision he had made in the shower. "Sephiroth, I've been thinking."

The white-haired man raised his eyebrows in waiting.

"I'll consider joining ShinRa, but, will I have to stay in the barracks?"

"Now that I think of it, there's no rule that says you absolutely have to, but my apartment is too far away for a cadet, which is where you would start at. Trust me, you'll cherish every minute of sleep you can get. Perhaps, if you decide to join, you can board with Zack. His quarters are on a top floor, but they're close enough. That is if you feel comfortable around him."

"And what will happen to me if I don't join ShinRa?"

"I can't keep stealing extra injections forever. Someone will notice."

"Breakfast is ready!" At that point in their conversation, Zack burst into the room, smile as wide as ever. "Will Spikey be joining us in the den, or are we joining him in here?"

"I'll carry him to the sofa. You prepare his plate."

"Okay dokie!"

Cloud groaned as Zack went to perform said task. "I've never met anyone as upbeat as him."

Sephiroth chuckled and placed one arm beneath his legs, supporting his upper body with the other. Cloud could tell he was being careful not to brush his burned leg. Soon, Cloud found himself sitting on the black sofa. Zack bounded in balancing three plates piled with pancakes, three glasses of milk, and a bottle of syrup. Cloud braced himself for the shattering crash that was sure to occur at any given moment, but relaxed as the brunette began to unload his quarry onto the table.

"Bet you wouldn't be able to guess I'm a gourmet chef just by looking at me, eh?" Zack handed him a plate of pancakes. "Syrup? Lots of sugar!"

Sephiroth sat in his chair across from the sofa, as usual. "If he has the same reaction to sugar as you, then I don't think it's in the best interest of my possessions."

"What are you talking about? I've only had a little bit of sugar in my coffee this morning."

Sephiroth rolled his eyes. "Exactly. Now that I think of it, there cannot possibly be anyone else on the planet as hyperactive as yourself. Besides, sugar makes people gain weight. Go ahead and give Cloud the whole bottle if he can stomach it."

Cloud shook his head, not bringing up the fact that he had never had many sweets in his life, therefore the taste of them turned out quite repulsing. Though he had never had pancakes either. Maybe a little syrup wouldn't hurt. Next thing he knew, he found a giant glob of butter right in the middle of his plate, courtesy of a certain brunette. He poured some syrup on top of the now melting mess. His stomach growled as the smell of butter and pancakes reached his nostrils. He took a bite. They were delicious, even more so than the Wutanese take-out he had last eaten. Now, no matter how annoying Zack seemed, he just couldn't bring himself to dislike the man at all, not when his hands had created such a heavenly thing. Perhaps staying with him wouldn't be so bad after all. He had made up his mind. He would join ShinRa, but decided not to tell Sephiroth at the moment, as the other two occupants of the room seemed completely engrossed in devouring Zack's culinary masterpiece.

Zack's pancakes were not the only factor that had determined his decision. At first, he had his doubts as to wether or not Zack could be trusted, but, if Sephiroth trusted him, then he would as well. Besides, someone so flirtatious in nature could never scheme to cause harm to someone else . . . not successfully anyways.

His inner conscience protested his decision with many belittling insults. For the second time that day, he told it to shove off, something he had never done once before. It seemed Cloud was experiencing a lot of things now that he had never even considered before, and now he was going to join the army. A month ago, if anyone had told him that, he would have rolled his eyes at them and walked away.

His plate was still half full, but the capacity of his stomach would not allow him to eat anymore. No matter how tasty they were, he didn't fancy exploding combined with his existing injuries.

He watched Zack as the man devoured the last morsel from his plate. Gaia, he had eaten fast. Sephiroth still had a good bit to go before he was finished. Syrup dribbled down Zack's chin and the brunette wiped it on his sleeve.

_That figures._

"You done Spikey?"

Cloud nodded in response. Before he had time to say anything else, Zack had abducted his pancakes and begun to shovel them away as well.

"Zack is a bottomless pit." Sephiroth intoned. Cloud just observed in amazement as Zack quickly finished and stacked both plates on the table.

"You want me to finish your's too?"

Sephiroth shook his head. "I think I can manage. Besides, picking what's left of you out of my hair after you pop isn't on my itinerary for today."

Zack stuck his tongue out childishly. Cloud couldn't stop the snort that escaped him.

"Oh, there is someone in there." Zack knocked on his head playfully, avoiding the bandages.

Finally, Cloud decided to speak. "Well, I couldn't help but laugh when I pictured tiny bits of you all over the apartment."

Zack mumbled and crossed his arms over his chest, disgruntled.

"What was that Zack?" Sephiroth inquired.

"I said, he has been taking lessons in humor from you, the King of Sardony."

"Zack, sardony isn't a word," Sephiroth chided.

"Yes it is! It's my word!"

"It's not in the dictionary."

"It's in my dictionary! Along with heeblduflaba, jwenisism, philangi porno, and peaner."

"Philangi porno? I don't even want to know."

By this time, Cloud was fighting desperately to conceal an outburst of giggles that threatened to make themselves known if he dared to exhale. His body was shaking with effort of holding them in. He had never laughed like this before. He had also never had a reason to laugh like this before.

**88888888**

Zack preened as he watched Cloud struggling with a fit of silent laughter. One more word was all it would take, and he knew just the word to use.

"Hey, Spike." Cloud looked up at him, not daring to open his mouth. Now he would swoop in and attack. "Banana."

The effect of that one simple word was astounding. Cloud doubled over, hugging himself. His laughter was like none Zack had ever heard before. He decided he liked it. Not a booming gafaw, a donkey's bark or a squeaking air toy, but a series of short ha's occasionally punctuated by a squeak. Tears were streaming from the blond's eyes.

_Mission accomplished._ Zack had always prided himself in making people laugh. Hell, he had even made Sephiroth produce a rare chuckle a time or two. Now that he had cheered up Mr. Gloomy, it was time to get the boy comfortable in his presence. What better way to do that than a good long movie?

Zack rose from the sofa as Cloud recovered from his bought of delectation. The edge of Sephiroth's mouth curled up in one of the smallest smiles he had ever seen, but it was still there, most likely brought on by seeing Cloud happy for once. Zack opened Sephiroth's treasury of epic DVD's and chose one of the longest ones he could find. He put the movie in and went back to his spot on the couch.

"Hope you like medieval wars and stuff Spiky, 'cus this is a long movie."

**88888888**

By the end of the film, Sephiroth's butt and legs were critically numb. He stood, dreading the expected tingle which was sure to come. Cloud had mustered up the courage to lie down sometime during the first two hours, and his head now lay in Zack's lap. Today had gone well. Cloud had taken to Zack with no problems at all, and the brunette was already working wonders for the boy.

Zack's roaring snore pierced the silence like a bullet. He would wake Cloud if the teen was not relocated.

Sephiroth ignored the pins and needles coursing through his thighs with every step, and bent to lift Cloud tenderly back to the bed. The blond felt so fragile in his arms, but he would fix that. Cloud would never miss a meal again as long he was under his roof, or Zack's for that matter. He wondered vaguely if Cloud had made any further decisions concerning SOLDIER. That didn't matter, not right now. He would worry about that at another time.

He lay Cloud on the bed and held his breath as the blond stirred, but Cloud simply turned onto his uninjured side and continued to sleep as if he had been in that position all along.

Sephiroth then exited the room. He went into his kitchen, where he dug up a pencil and a pamphlet of paper. He wrote quickly and placed the paper on the table in front of Zack, who was now snoring louder than before. He had considered placing it on his friend's lap, but remembered the Zack's occasional habit of leaking enough saliva to fill a bucket.

He pulled on his coat and boots, then slipped out the door, planning to pay a visit to a certain Turk.

**88888888**

Author Notes:

I know it took me a long time to get this chapter posted. I promise you, I posted as soon as I finished the grammatical and spelling crap.

This chapter could have gone a lot of ways ans, I'll admit, I started it with no destined plot whatsoever.

Don't worry, Tseng gets punished in the next chapter. *Evil Laughter*

Also, I'll have you know the words heeblduflaba, jwenisism, philangi porno, and peaner are not words I just made up. My friends and I have been using them for years. Yes, we are a strange lot. Heeblduflaba is a swear word, much like dammit. Jwenisism has no defined definition. I guess you could say it is used in the same pretext as the word meep. Philangi porno is exactly as it says. A philangi is the scientific term for finger, so philangi porno would be rubbing the fingers of one hand together with someone else's fingers. Never do this with your own two hands, as this is considered incest. Last but not least, a peaner is a knee, whereas a wenis is an elbow.

There, Danielle's vocabulary lesson for the day. If you think these words are weird, you would not survive sitting at the lunch table with my group. We'd have you gasping for air by the end of the day. I guess you can say, we're all like Zack . . . mentally unstable because we choose to be. Except Jimmy, he's just the fat bald guy with random outbursts of odd behavior, but we love him anyway!

This chapter has been updated as of 12-10-08.


	9. Setting Out

DISCLAIMER: Final Fantasy belongs to Squaresoft and various other interested parties, not me. I'm not making any money from this, and no infringement of copyright is intended. This is a work of fandom, intended as appreciation of the original work.

WARNINGS: Violence, Language

**Chapter Nine**

**Setting Out**

It had obviously snowed the night before, as the pavement was a mess of partially melted ice and mush. It was under these icy winter conditions that Sephiroth made his way though Midgar, his destination being ShinRa headquarters. His breath crystalized into clouds of mist in front of his face. Cloud. It was odd how the adolescent had managed to worm his way into his life, but he had grown to accept him as a permanent addition, a new friend, just a great deal younger . . . on the outside. The blond was more mature than Zack, who had turned twenty-three over a month ago. Though Sephiroth knew he had been forced to grow far too quickly. Cloud had never experienced a true childhood. Sephiroth longed to have the ability to change that. He knew what it was like not to grow up happy and innocent. Cloud didn't deserve that. No one did, least of all Cloud, but there was one thing he could do for the blond. Revenge.

He knew it would be unlikely that Tseng had gone back to headquarters, but he had no ideas as to where else the Turk could be. He had most likely gone into hiding, knowing the president and his executives would take the General's side in any feud, no matter what the circumstances. No, the General did not expect Tseng to be there. Hell, the Turk had fled the continent if he still possessed any sane mind at all. Sephiroth needed information, and he had already planned the exact source, the exact unfortunate rookie he would extract Tseng's location from. The redhead with the twin scars on his face. Reno . . . Turks never acknowledged their last names, so he didn't see the point in himself doing so either. He wouldn't harm the newbie too much. After all, this one had taken no part in inflicting Cloud's pain. Perhaps he would scare him witless just for good measure.

His boots screeched annoyingly as he entered the lobby. There was, of course, a rug in front of the wide glass doors, but it was already soaked through so he ignored it completely. This had been a terrible year as far as the weather was concerned. If it wasn't cold, it was raining. It if wasn't raining, it was cold. If it wasn't either, it was snowing. What ever happened to warm summer's and sunny skies?

_Oh well, at least I can wear my coat contentedly all year round_.

The General didn't even bother going to his office, opting to get the deed done with as soon as possible. The sooner he extracted Tseng's location, the sooner he could put his plan of torture into action. After asking a desk clerk to pin point Reno's whereabouts by consulting today's training schedule, Sephiroth headed off in the direction of the tactical analysis classroom. While Reno was considered a Turk, he had yet to deem himself satisfactory to most of his instructors. Thus the fact that he was still completing his basic combat training.

He waited at the doorway for the instructor to notice him. The old geezer didn't look like much, but Sephiroth had put in a good word for him and he had gotten the job. The man had proven his statistical intelligence during Wutai War One when he'd saved an entire squadron by predicting an unseen attack that not even Sephiroth himself would have noticed.

The cadets noticed him first, as always. One turned, caught sight of him, and gaped like a flaming fish. Naturally, this comical facial expression drew the attention of others, who, in turn, proceeded to gape like fish as well after following the first's gaze. They reminded Sephiroth of the aquarium in Zack's rooms. Soon, every warm body in attendance was staring at him except the Ex-SOLDIER, who was drawing a hypothetical battle field on the white board. As he turned, he noticed none of his charges were watching, much less listening.

"Now see here, you whelps! I'll not have . . . "

The man looked up at last and abruptly ceased his scolding, as if the General's presence in the room was enough of an excuse for the entire session to ignore him.

"Why General, Sir, what brings you here this afternoon?"

"I need to borrow Cadet Reno. I do not believe he will be continuing any of his classes for the rest of the day, so I implore you write up a release so his absence will not be fretted."

"Of course, of course." The man immediately found a piece of paper and began writing. He looked up during the middle of his task and shook his hand at a mop of unruly red hair in the back. "Reno. You heard the General. Go."

The boy stood as the other cadets shot him looks of envy and jealousy. If only they knew what was in store for their peer, then they wouldn't wish so much to be in his shoes. Sephiroth wouldn't actually harm the boy, for he had not taken part in Tseng's madness, but he didn't know that. The white-haired man just intended to scare him a little . . . okay, a lot. As long as he got the information, that's all that mattered to him.

The redhead gave him a nervous quizzical look and did not take his eyes from his own as he approached, hands concealed habitually in the pockets of his navy trousers. Sephiroth forced his expression to remain blank, though he would truly have liked to gift the boy with a smirk. He thought it best to keep the manner of his intentions hidden for the time being.

He said nothing, just turned away, the thrumming of his boots seeming like thunder in the silence. He could practically hear the boy hesitating, then chuckled menacingly as the sound of lighter feet rushing to regain lost ground reached his ears. When they were out of the earshot of the classroom, Sephiroth finally spoke.

"I know you're wondering why I have requested your company."

The redhead tried to hold his voice straight and almost succeeded, but not quite. Though shaky, it still held and air of arrogance, fueling Sephiroth's negative opinion of the Turk rookie. "O - of course . . . Sir."

Sephiroth led them into an elevator and pressed the correct buttons before continuing. He wanted so badly to get on with his intentions, but knew better. He would have to wait until they were in his office, the door securely locked and the boy trapped, otherwise he would run.

"What do you know about your specified officer?"

"You mean Tseng?"

Was the impertinent sod truly so daft? If he couldn't understand plain English, how the hell had he attracted the eyes of the Turks?

_They must be desperate_, he mused.

"Yes. What do you know about Tseng?"

"Uhh . . . what're you talkin' about yo?" Sephiroth forced himself not to cringe at the teen's butchery of the English language.

"Where were you last night?"

"I was hangin' with a couple of my friends at the Blue Parrot."

Sephiroth couldn't help but notice the matter of fact tone the boy used. He knew something, and he was determined to find out.

The elevator came to a halt with a ding, and the door swished open. Sephiroth glanced at the teen, who looked ready to bolt.

"You first." He gracefully gestured the hallway beyond with a gloved hand, forcing the redhead to follow suit. As long as he was between Reno and the stairs, the boy held no chance of escape. They reached his office at last, located at the end of the hall. Reno was forced to stand in the corner as he slid his cardkey through the pad, once again ensuring he could not successfully flee. This time, instead of making his orders sound like suggestions, Sephiroth ground out the boy's only option, grabbed him by the shoulder and roughly shoved him over the threshold.

_That should shake him up a bit._

Yes, Sephiroth knew he was being a bastard at the moment, but if acting thus would lead to avenging Cloud, then so be it. He closed the door behind him and watched as Reno's eyes widened considerabley at the sound of the lock clicking in place. Sephiroth stared into the Turk's eyes until the redhead glanced away, unable to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds. Yes, Sephiroth had succeeded in making marginally frightened. Now the questions could begin.

Sephiroth stalked forwards, Masamune at his side. His subconscious wouldn't dare allow him to use it on a boy so young, but it was there just to add that final touch to his air of intimidation.

"Tell me Reno . . . How old are you?"

The teen seemed nonplused as he shook where he had landed on the floor after being forced through the door more quickly than his feet could register. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, waiting for his answer.

"S-seventeen, what's it to you, yo?"

Sephiroth heaved a sigh of frustration. The boy had decided to play courageous by lashing at him with useless words.

"Seventeen," he mused. "That seems a little young to be getting yourself into such dismal activities."

"What are you talkin' about? The Turks?"

"Precisely." Sephiroth moved forwards, eliminating the few feet between them in one fluid step. He clutched the teen's shirt and lifted him off his feet to dangle inches from the solidity of the floor.

"You lied to me in the elevator when I asked you where you were last night. Now, I will have the truth. Out with it," he growled.

"I-I was with my m-mentor, Rude."

Along with the mass education program set up by ShinRa for those who aspired to become SOLDIERs, Turks also had to go through a period of one-on-one experience to ready them for situations not simulated by ShinRa. Each new member was taken on by an older, more experienced Turk who, hopefully, had the patience to teach the newbies their ways.

"And where was Rude?"

The boy's face had taken on a red coloration as he struggled to breath through the tightened collar of his shirt, so Sephiroth decided to lower him to his feet, but didn't release his hold.

"We were ordered to transport our leader in a helicopter."

"Were you given any specific information as to why the transport was ordered?"

"N-no. As much as I hate to say it, I'm just an apprentice. They don't tell me anything, yo!"

"You and your mentor were the only two to recieve this command?"

"I can copilot just fine, yo. Two is enough, so why not?" The boy took offense at having the competency of his performance questioned, a trait shared by all Turks in general.

"To where did you transport Tseng?"

"W-why do you wanna know?"

Sephiroth pushed him bodily into the nearest wall with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. "I understand you were most likely told not to speak of last night's event, but, as you can see, you are clearly outmatched. I'm the one asking the questions, and I believe it's in your own personal interests to answer them accurately." His voice was almost a whisper as he spat the threat over the teen's head.

"Please don't . . . I'll . . . tell you everything, just don't hurt me." Reno had forgotten his annoying way of speech in his moment of fear as he struggled over the words.

Sephiroth backed down a bit as Reno's skiddish behavior reminded of his blond, hopefully still sleeping, back in his apartment.

_No, this is not Cloud. This is an arrogant, cocky apprentice of the people who hurt Cloud._

_My blond?_

Sephiroth retightened his grip on the teen's shirt. "Well?"

"It's a p-place called . . . Owl's Eye Hollow, in the mountains east of Kalm. There's a ShinRa safe house there."

Sephiroth released his victim and strode to the door, reaching into his pocket for a small bag of gil. He tossed it to the redhead's feet. Why hadn't he just bribed the boy to begin with? Oh well.

"That's for your trouble." He glanced calculatingly to the boy's darkened front. "And a new pair of pants."

Sephiroth left the boy shaking and wet in his office, the door unlocked so he could leave whenever he had deemed himself presentable. He wouldn't be so lenient with Tseng. That was mere child's play compared to the pain he would inflict on the older Turk. Reno had taken no part in Cloud's torment, whereas the former was the heart of the matter.

He knew the trip to Kalm would take a day on a chocobo. The mountains beyond on the other hand. . . He would end up camping over night. He couldn't leave Cloud alone. Ever since the kidnaping incident, he had been rather reluctant to let him out of his sight. He couldn't leave him with Zack that long either, even if they seemed to be getting along fine. Zack tended to make a mess of any and everything when left to his own devices. It wasn't that he didn't trust his friend. He just didn't think the idea of leaving Cloud unguarded for more than twenty-four hours wise. What if Tseng had stationed spies outside his apartment? They would surely swoop in as soon as he was gone . . . again. Zack's skills were notable, but . . . he sometimes made small mistakes that often lead to a much larger degree of chaos. No, it would be best for Cloud and Zack to come with him. He would definitely have to talk to the two of them before making a decision.

**88888888**

Cloud woke once again snuggled up in Sephiroth's bed. He had recognized it instantly because the pillow his face was currently smothered in was awash with the man's clean scent. He breathed in the intoxicating mixture of masculine shampoo and natural musk with slow deep inhalations. To anyone watching, they wouldn't even have noticed he was awake.

He remembered falling asleep with his head lying on Zack's thigh. He couldn't remember ever allowing anyone that close to him voluntarily, except Sephiroth. He thought back on how quickly Zack had earned enough trust to allow that sentiment and cringed. Old habits die hard. He was not used to being this trustful. Was he wrong in allowing himself to do so? No, these kinds of change were for the better. Sephiroth would not have allowed Zack so close to him if he had thought the other man a threat . . . right? Of course he was right. Sephiroth had cared enough to help him this far, surly the older man wouldn't just grow tired of him.

Then the thought struck him. People /did/ grow tired of others. What if Sephiroth was beginning to see him as a burden now that he had been here so long, caused so much trouble? He clenched his eyes tight, fighting to overwhelming urge to cry at that realization. Even if the white-haired general hadn't yet grown tired of his presence, he would eventually, as would Zack. He held the tears back. He would handle that rejection when it came, as for now, he could at least enjoy the concern and . . . friendship? . . . while it lasted. His thoughts continued down darker paths until the pang of his bladder demanding he tend to its needs pulled him to reality.

He rolled over a little too quickly and hissed as a sharp pain jolted through his burned leg. He pulled up the loose cloth of the brown pants to observe the wound. Mako truly was a miracle. The blackened flesh had taken on a new hue of pink, a good sign. Most of the blisters had gone down, and Cloud also noticed it had gotten a bit smaller in diameter. He pushed the material back down his leg. Even if the wound had healed so much, he didn't think it would be wise for him to reopen the chapped skin by walking to the bathroom.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he guessed it was now late afternoon. He decided to take some time to fully appreciate one of his newly heightened senses, his hearing namely. He held his breath, listening to the quiet, which was soon interrupted by a metallic bang. The sound of . . . a chopping knife? Someone was cooking then. At the mere thought of food, his stomach gurgled impatiently. This surprised him, as he had only eaten a few hours ago, and then more than he would have eaten during an entire day at the orphanage. There was no doubt in his mind that his ribs would soon cease to be visible.

Now, time to try out another enhanced attribute, scent. He inhaled deeply, as he had done earlier with his face buried in the aroma Sephiroth. Again, the ambrosia filled his nostrils, but this time it was accompanied by the much weaker scent of something else, probably the food being prepared in the next room. He supposed he should try and get used to sampling new tastes, as it seemed the orphanage's menu was monotonously limited, and his mother had always made boring meals. The less time she spent making food for him, the more time she had to mourn his bastard of a father. No, bastards weren't so bad, after all, he /was/ one. He would have to find a new christening for his sire. Maybe . . . asshole? Yes, that would do nicely.

His thought were interrupted by Zack's cheery baritone.

"I made spaghetti. I've always wanted to serve someone's breakfast in bed! Well . . . it's passed lunch time actually, but close enough. Sorry it took me so long. Seph and I missed the area behind the trash can when we were cleaning up after you kidnapers and I had to grab the mop. I like you and all Spike, but I don't want to see your blood every time I throw something away."

Cloud couldn't stop the smile from escaping despite the reminder of having the shit knocked out of him in the kitchen. Zack was just so contagious. The man was grinning widely while carrying a tray of food that smelled delicious. He carefully sat it down across his lap, as not to spill the bubbly brown liquid in the glass, and helped him prop himself up on the pillows.

"Be right back Spikey. You're not eating this meal alone." Zack disappeared through the door and, true to word, returned with what Cloud assumed to be his own food. Zack sat down in the chair Sephiroth had relocated into the bedroom at some point and began to devour the long noodles with reckless abandon. Cloud started in on his own spaghetti, idly contemplated how the brunette would be putting the role of paper towels he'd brought along to good use when the sound of a closing door broke Zack's ravenous concentration.

Sephiroth entered the room, bringing with him that powerful aura that Cloud had begun to associate with safety and warmth. "There's some left for you in the microwave, Seph," Zack informed him.

"I suppose I had better lay claim to it before you finish your own off." The white-haired man left for much longer than Zack had and finally reemerged. "I'm sure you read the note I left, Zack?"

"MmmHmmm," he murmured through a mouthful of noodles. He swallowed, "Did you find him?"

Cloud sat in silence, thinking it better not to ask questions just yet.

"No, but I now know where I /can/ find him. I estimate it to be about a three day trip all the way to the mountains passed Kalm."

"I can stay here with Spikey if that's what's bothering you."

"No, I was hoping he would feel well enough to come along, you too. He deserves to watch Tseng suffer."

They both looked to Cloud. He set his fork down. So that's who they were talking about. Sephiroth had gone out to find Tseng. He didn't really want to watch someone in pain, but he found himself wanting to stay by Sephiroth's side. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow evening," the white-haired man answered.

He remembered how well his leg had been healing and imagined it would be functional by then. "Yeah, I should be fine by then."

Sephiroth nodded. "Zack, when you go to your rooms at headquarters tomorrow, I want you to pick up some things." Sephiroth extracted an envelope from his coat. "There's a list here, and my credit card. Do /not/ loose it."

"Well, there's one less pick pocket on the streets now, so I don't think I'll have much trouble," he replied jokingly. Cloud just grunted at the comment, knowing it was only part of Zack's bubbly sense of humor.

When Cloud finished his spaghetti, Zack offered to finish it off once again. Cloud idely contemplated the puzzle of the dark-haired man's metabolism before Sephiroth spoke up again, now finished with his own.

"My source told me Tseng was taken to a safe house in a place called Owl's Eye Hollow. As I said, we'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon. We should arrive at Kalm later that night, where we'll stay at the inn. We should leave there after breakfast and continue on into the mountain range. We can use one of the larger ShinRa issue tents, they're tough enough to withstand unsavory weather changes if any should occur. Zack, you know standard traveling protocol. Remember, pack only the essentials, as we don't need our chocobos tired out one day in."

At that statement, Cloud couldn't stop the words from exploding from his mouth. "We're riding . . . chocobos?!" He hadn't known the giant birds could be ridden, though he /had/ wondered what the hell anyone would want with a gargantuan chicken. To eat, he'd assumed. No, Tylus hadn't, if fact, been selling abnormally large Thanksgiving dinners, but apparently worthy steads instead. Who'da thunk it?

"Yes. Are you familiar with them?"

"I've touched one, but not voluntarily. I've never ridden anything like that either." Great. Now Sephiroth was going to leave him behind, most likely alone, while he and Zack whisked off to wreak revenge upon the man that had nearly killed him. He frowned, feeling a bit, for lack of a better word, pampered. He wanted to go. He /would/ learn to ride a damned chocobo, even if he found he had no natural talent for sitting on another creature's back while it carried him. He would /not/ be left behind.

"That's fine. I expected as much. Zack and I will just have to take turns riding double."

Zack was behind Sephiroth, so the man could not see the odd devilish grin that spread across his face, but Cloud sure did, and he found it slightly unnerving.

/Maybe . . . it was just a coincidence?/ No matter how much he wanted to believe that sentiment, he knew it wasn't true. What was Zack planning? Whatever it was, he prayed it wasn't going to end negatively for himself.

As far as riding double with another man on the back of a giant bird was concerned, he wouldn't mind. He had used the both of them as pillows within the passed day, Sephiroth more so than Zack, but it wouldn't matter. He trusted both of them well enough. Besides, he knew they didn't have time to teach him to ride a chocobo before tomorrow.

The rest of the day was spent preparing for tomorrow's trip. Zack opted to fulfill the completion of Sephiroth's shopping list while the white-haired man packed his own bag. Cloud felt awkward just lying in the bed watching him move about his bedroom, neatly placing items in the brown satchel with the red triangle he had come to recognize as ShinRa's logo monogrammed on the latch. His level of discomfort only increased tenfold when he realized he still hadn't relieved himself, and that his bladder had decided to strike back full force. Not wanting to bother the occupied man, he sat up and steadily tested his weight on the floor. His leg stung a bit, but he knew he needed to show Sephiroth he could walk on his own now so the other man wouldn't be worried about allowing him on a camping trip.

The tight skin over his freshly healed wound stretched to the point of pain as he placed all of his weight on his legs. He gritted his teeth and weathered the discomfort. Pain was something he was no stranger to. He had never felt love or happiness, but pain, yes, that was something he knew,and with such familiarity, came knowledge. Cloud had learned to just picture his agony as a sort of annoyance instead of physical distress. In doing such, almost any amount of torture was bearable . . . as long as it didn't include fire and mako poisoning.

He made it midway to his destination when the pain in his leg sharply increased in magnitude. Surprised by the sudden change, Cloud yelped and stumbled to the floor clutching his burn. He heard a rustling of leather as Sephiroth hastened to his side. The white-haired man knelt next to him, concern etched in his features.

"Are you alright?"

"It hurts." He clenched his teeth to stifle any audible expression of his pain. He had just made a fool of himself and he knew it.

"Why didn't you ask for help?"

Cloud found this question impossible to form into a plausible answer. Why hadn't he asked for help? He still held some semblance of pride, despite being dependent on the man so much lately. But was his pride what stopped him from seeking assistance? No. It had been the knowledge that he was not worth the trouble. Sephiroth had probably grown to loath his apparent helplessness by now and he did not want to push the limits of the man's hospitality any more than he already had.

Sephiroth sighed, taking his brief silence as an answer. "Let's see if it's bleeding." Cloud fought down his body's treacherous blush as the older man rolled up his pant leg, being careful not to brush against the wound. Yes, Sephiroth had touched him in that general area before, but, at the time, he'd been doped up on Gaia knows what. Whatever it was, it had worked. Odd . . . he'd thought that the mako in his blood stream would contradict any medicine he was given. Sephiroth probably got it from ShinRa. After all, SOLDIERs couldn't go through their lives never taking any type of medication at all.

Looking at the reddened burn on his thigh, Cloud was grateful to see the absence of blood. Maybe he had just reawakened a previously sleeping nerve. Burns tended to temporarily deaden nerve endings. Sephiroth nodded after assessing the lack of visible damage.

"I take it you were headed to the bathroom?"

Cloud nodded and braced himself against the taller man as he was helped to his feet. He took a few tender steps, then ascertained the unexpected jolt of pain was not to be repeated, or so he hoped. Sephiroth helped him to the doorway, allowing him to take most of his own weight. Cloud suspected he was there only to be sure he didn't fall again. He held on to the walls after his human support beam released his strong hold.

"Thanks."

"Call me if you need my help getting back to the bed." Cloud nodded, though he didn't plan on going back to the bed. After he'd finished his business, he thought he would move to the couch for a while. Maybe get the white-haired man to show him how to work the television. He sighed as his persistent bladder finally got what it wanted and, once again, studied himself in the mirror. His hair, as always, jutted up in odd angles, but he couldn't help but notice it looked . . . well, healthier. He hadn't known he was this blond. His face wasn't quite as pale as it had been, even after his Turk dilemma.

_Must be Zack's cooking, _he mused.

He exited th bathroom at a careful pace and lugged into the den where he found Zack had returned with a mountain of shopping bags.

"Come here Spikey. I've got something to show you." Zack seemed even more cheerful than usual, if such were possible.

Cloud made his way slowly to the dark-haired man and sat himself down on the sofa.

"Hmmm . . . .which bag is it? Grrrr . . . retarded cashiers. Must they always shuffle shit around?"

Cloud waited patiently, wondering what Zack could be excavating for in the sizeable pile. Finally, the SOLDIER emerged with several items.

"I found some of them." He dropped his load into Cloud's lap. "If they don't fit, we'll just swap them later." Cloud did not move as the man starred at him expectantly.

"Well, what are you waiting for? You don't need a search warrant!"

Cloud studied each new article of clothing as Zack dived back into the sea of bags. He noticed Zack had once again exhibited great preferences in clothing. He counted three pairs of jeans, one black, a pair of dark green cargo pants with more pockets than he cared to count, six new shirts, a jacket that was obviously meant to be worn with the cargoes, several cotton undershirts, more socks than humanly necessary, and the wildest boxers he had ever seen. He quirked an eyebrow at Zack's odd taste in underwear. One pair was metallic silver, another black with glittery skulls set at equal intervals, a dark green pair with rose thorns weaving in intricate patterns, and the last he thought were solid black, but as he turned them around he was proven wrong at the sight of a pair of red lips on the right side . . . no doubt where his posterior would be.

Zack returned with four belts, three black, one brown and noticed the look on his face. "What? Is my taste in undergarments too extravagant for you?" Cloud shifted as the man moved to sit next to him. Cloud shook his head. "No . . . just . . . weird."

Zack frowned. "Well, fuck. I was going for flirtatious, but I guess that works too."

Cloud grinned genuinely at Zack's mock-disappointment.

Zack scratched his head as if he were trying to remember something. "Oh yeah! I knew I forgot something." He stood and navigated his way across the shopping bag-ridden room, seemingly searching for something. "Aha! Here it is." He plunged his hand into a sack and pulled out a large backpack. "This is your's too. You'll need to pack about three day's of clothes in here. Seph and I will take care of everything else." Cloud was then handed the blue pack. Running his fingers over it, he realized it was made of a tough heavy material which meant it must have been expensive. Great, not only was he imposing on Sephiroth's space and privacy, but his bank account as well. Before he could say anything about not wanting, nor needing to be pampered so, said white-haired man emerged from the kitchen carrying a duffle bag.

Zack scrambled to catch it as it was tossed in his direction. "Put the food you bought for the trip in there, Zack." He reached into his pocket and sat on the sofa. When his hand resurfaced, he held up a vile of green liquid. "I had better give you this now, seeing as you haven't had one since last night and it's getting late," he said, turning to Cloud.

Cloud's nerves immediately jumped to attention. Sephiroth had given him injections before, but, ironically, he had been unconscious during each procedure. The older man took Cloud's arm and lay it across his hard thigh as he cleaned the injection sight and prepared the needle. Cloud trusted Sephiroth, but he had never witnessed the actual pain involved in having a needle pressed into your flesh. How badly would it hurt? Surely Sephiroth would warn him if the sensation was drastically traumatic . . . right?

He tried to look away as Sephiroth's hand slowly pushed the needle into his skin, but found himself fascinated in the foreign situation. He braced himself for what was sure to hurt, but when the needle broke his skin with a small prick he was increasingly grateful he hadn't voiced his fear, as it didn't hurt at all. Sephiroth held his arm tightly, but not painfully so as the plunger forced the thick green liquid into his arm with an agonizingly slow pace. While the penetration hadn't caused pain, the thought that an unnatural metal object was currently lodged in his muscle was uncomfortable, not to mention the wild burn of the mako as it entered his veins.

A brief spell of dizziness hit him seconds after Sephiroth had withdrawn the needle from his flesh and he braced himself on the strong arm next to him as his body threatened to fall into the man full force. Sephiroth held him in place as if he had anticipated the reaction. Cloud blinked away the blurred edges around his vision and pushed himself away from the solid wall of muscle to his right. Just as quickly as it had come, the disorientation was gone.

"What was that?" he inquired, wondering if something else had gone wrong inside his body.

"Don't worry, it's common." Cloud released the breath he had been holding. "When the body's immune system detects the sudden increase in the amount of mako in one's blood, most white blood cells rush to the incident until the substance acclimates itself to your body. The mako makes the transformation so quickly that the body becomes temporarily confused, causing a breif lapse of vertigo. Once the mako has completely disguised itself, only then can it's positive effects be utilized."

"I didn't think the body could be fooled like that," Cloud wondered.

"Only a substance as volatile yet miraculous as mako could accomplish it."

Sephiroth stood to dispose of the soiled needle and empty mako vile. When he returned, he glanced at the clock above the entertainment center. "It's almost seven. We're leaving tomorrow morning at four AM," he stated. "Zack, I know for a fact that ShinRa isn't going to provide chocobos for this journey, so I'm going to go make a phone call to the local rancher. Tylus is always willing to do business, no matter under what circumstances."

Tylus, Cloud remembered that name, the big bearded man who had caused him to have a panic attack in Wal-Market. Remembering the large birds the man raised, Cloud was stricken by a wave of anxiety. How was a human supposed to ride on a bird? Weren't their bones hollow, and therefore weak? He willed himself to calm down. If Sephiroth said chocobos could be ridden, then he would take the man's word for it, no matter how much he doubted them. Besides, he wouldn't be riding alone. He would be riding with either Zack or Sephiroth. Surely the two men, as trained SOLDIERs, could control the animals.

He watched as Zack lifted a leathery black case from one of the bags. It looked to be about four feet in length and maybe eight inches wide. The dark-haired man moved it into the kitchen where Sephiroth had gone. Cloud heard his over cheery voice. "This is the one you wanted, right?" There was a pause of silence as, presumably, Sephiroth was examining whatever had been in the black box. "Yes, the very same." Then Zack's voice came again."You want to . . . ?" Sephiroth interrupted briskly, "No, tomorrow."

Zack returned without the box, whistling. Cloud pretended he hadn't overheard the conversation and began to place his new clothes neatly into the bag. What was in that box? He sighed. Most likely it didn't matter nor pertain to him. They were leaving early, so he would need to go to bed soon. Even if he had just woken from a nap, he didn't want to be too tired to wake in the morning.

**88888888**

Sephiroth woke to the incessant blaring of a very persistent alarm clock. He didn't want to move, much less get up and start his day. There was a soft warmth pressed into his chest. Confusion set in as he remembered that he was not currently dating anyone. Therefore, who could . . . Cloud!? His eyes shot open as if he had been struck by lightening. He was currently spooning an unaware fifteen year old! Dislodging himself reluctantly from the comfortable bed, he woke the groggy blond as if nothing had happened and put an end to the clock's unsavory screaming. Cloud sat up, and Sephiroth watched as that moment when one's memory came rushing back set in. He sent the blond into the bathroom for a shower and exited the bedroom to find Zack, shockingly, up and about.

The brunette had already placed their luggage in front of the door and was now working on a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and grits overflowing with butter. Sephiroth suddenly found himself grateful Zack didn't cook every meal he ate, as, if that were so, he would be too large to exit his apartment, much less lead an army.

"Spikey can't miss a meal, no matter how early we wake." His friend was obviously a morning person if the size of the grin plastered on his face was anything to go by. He nodded and went to his room to retrieve his clothes. He had planned to shower after Zack had already done so, but the man had, Sephiroth prayed, already done so, seeing as he was fully dressed.

As the warm water of the shower washed away the previous day's filth, Sephiroth couldn't help but smile as he pictured how surprised and happy Cloud would be at the sight of the contents of the black box. Sephiroth had picked it out himself, confident the blond would take to it naturally. Not only was this journey to teach Tseng a lesson, but to also give Cloud the opportunity to jump even further ahead than the cadets currently in training at ShinRa Headquarters. He doubted the adolescent had ever been camping before, considering his bleak background.

After grooming his impossibly difficult hair, he emerged fully dressed to find that Cloud had beaten him to the sofa and already put down a substantial portion of his breakfast. Had he spent that long in the bathroom? Dismissing the thought, he accepted his own meal from Zack and followed Cloud's example. He was surprised to note that Cloud actually managed to consume the entirety of his breakfast this time. Although, Sephiroth stifled a chuckle as the irked expression on Zack's face at not getting extras didn't go unnoticed.

"When do we set out?" Zack inquired.

Sephiroth stood, noting the time on the wall-clock. "We're supposed to meet Tylus at the city's northern exit. He says he managed to round up two of his strongest birds, so doubling up shouldn't be difficult on them."

He then turned to Cloud. "How is your leg?"

Cloud smiled. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

Zack interrupted."Who's Spike riding with first?"

"Well, it's his choice really. It won't make a difference either way." Sephiroth looked to Cloud, waiting for an answer. The blond seemed to dwell on such a small decision for decades before he finally looked up.

"Sephiroth . . . if that's alright."

The young man still hadn't fully recovered from his beaten puppy state of mind. Sephiroth knew it would take time before Cloud realized he wouldn't be reprimanded or lashed at every time he expressed his own free will . . . time, and patience. Cloud was young compared to the grand scale of things. He would grow out of it as long as no other traumatizing occurrence caused a reversion. The blond's mind was in a very delicate stage of recovery. Sephiroth knew that, if the boy backpeddled, he would never stand a chance at a full recovery. To avoid that situation, Sephiroth had concluded that progress would be the only remedy. Hence his next action.

He had debated with himself as to wether or not the decision was wise, but he could see no reason as to why it wouldn't be. Cloud was strong for his age, fast, and intelligent if his survival record was any indication. He had agreed to join SOLDIER, but he had already fallen behind the other cadets of his age genre. Sephiroth had the remedy. He would make sure Cloud was more than ready for the military himself. He would train Cloud in combat himself.

"Wait here for a moment." He stood and went to retrieve the box from the kitchen. If this didn't boost Cloud's confidence, then he would cut his own hair. He returned to the den, Cloud wringing his hands in his lap. He wondered what the teen could be thinking, what Cloud could be dreading that had made him so nervous. As if in slow motion, he placed the rectangular black case in the blond's lap, its riveted leather gleaming in the artificial light. Cloud seemed confused for a moment, his mouth open with a silent question.

"It's yours, open it." Cloud slowly placed his hands over the gilded latch, as if afraid the box contained all of the chaoses of Pandora. Sephiroth soon found himself under the scrutiny of those bright blue orbs, the teen's expression unreadable. Finally, Cloud looked back to the box and eased it open, revealing the dark sheath of a katana. Again, Cloud looked up, this time into his eyes. If Sephiroth could have formed the emotions pouring from that gaze into words, the list would never have ended. Gratitude. Reverence. Confusion, as if he believed he didn't deserve the gift. Sephiroth knew Cloud had not been prepared as to how to react, did not know how to react, having most likely never received anything so valuable in his life. Sephiroth didn't need to hear the a verbal thanks, the blond's expression was more than enough.

"There's more to the sword than its sheath, Cloud," he nudged softly. The boy swallowed as his fingers roamed over the hilt in awe, still trying to force the words he had visibly been searching for ever since receiving the present. "I . . . you . . . " Cloud relaxed his hands in a movement of defeat and looked up again. "I don't know how to use it." He looked as if he expected the sword to be taken back, Sephiroth had to beat down the urge to hold him. He just seemed so . . . so broken.

"That is why I am going to teach you how."

Cloud blinked at him more times than humanly necessary and focused his attention back to the weapon in his lap. This time, instead of only running his fingertips over the sheath, he lifted the hilt from the box, which fell empty to the floor. Sephiroth took notice that the tip didn't sag downward after it. It seemed Cloud had been expecting the weight of the blade. He had chosen a relatively light one, but it had been forged by one of the best, and was one of the most durable one could buy.

Cloud slowly freed the glistening blade from the sheath's tight embrace, the hamon dancing along the blade's edge like a twisting serpent. The teen's fingers seemed to know exactly where to go, as he held it true. Sephiroth had been correct in assuming he had natural talent.

"You'll . . . teach me?" Cloud looked like a puppy who had just been given a steak larger than its head. "When?"

"As soon as you like. I can give your first lesson this evening after we've made camp. That is, if you're still up to it. We've a long day of riding ahead of us."

Cloud slid the sheath back onto the blade with an expression that exuded the words 'Oh shit!' Sephiroth knew the blond had briefly forgotten about their trip in his moment of excitement.

Zack stood. "We have thirty minutes to get to the city's exit."

"That's plenty of time." Sephiroth helped Cloud secure the katana to his belt, and they proceeded to the ground floor of the building. Normally, Sephiroth would have opted to walk, but, for fear of Cloud being recognized, they drove the vehicle he'd taken from the prison.

As they neared their destination, Sephiroth couldn't help but notice that Cloud seemed increasingly nervous.

_This will be his first time on a chocobo. He has a right to be nervous. It's a good thing he chose to ride with me. I won't let him fall. I trust Zack and all, but . . . _he sighed. He had been overly protective of Cloud ever since the young man had confessed to almost being raped. He had never felt this way toward anyone before. _The boy's only fifteen! _he told himself. _Besides, after what he's been through, you would probably only scare him off if you made a move. His trust isn't worth it. _He had yet to admit to himself that he wanted the blond as more than a friend. He knew Cloud would not reciprocate anyways.

As the car came to a stop, the sun had begun to rise over the mountains in the distance, creating a beautiful back fall effect. As the chocobos came into view, being led by the burly Tylus, another thought came to mind. This would be Cloud's first time outside of Midgar in ten years.

**88888888**

Author Notes:

This chapter took me longer to plot than it did to write it. I would have gotten it posted sooner, but I've had a lot of other things to write. That stupid two page writing exam is coming up again, and my English teacher seems to think /everyone/ needs to practice. I also had to write a prepared speech for a HOSA competition, but I'm not the one who's going to give the speech thank Gaia! Can you believe the lady told me it was too powerful and gave it back with these words, "Soften it down a bit." WTF!? There is no such thing as a speech that is too powerful!

I know this chapter is a bit boring, but, I promise, the next will be full of action! Cloud learns the art of swordplay. Sephiroth kills some giant . . . *cough* whoops, can't tell you that yet, and Zack burns himself while trying to build a fire. Sadly, I've decided to save Tseng's ass kicking for later . . . just so I could pack more action into chapter ten of course.

This chapter has been updated as of 12-10-08.


	10. Into the Hollow

DISCLAIMER: Final Fantasy belongs to Squaresoft and various other interested parties, not me. I'm not making any money from this, and no infringement of copyright is intended. This is a work of fandom, intended as appreciation of the original work.

WARNINGS: Violence, Language, Solo

**Chapter Ten**

**Into the Hollow**

Cloud clutched the soft yellow feathers tighter as the chocobo scaled a fairly steep incline, tilting him back closer to the man behind him. He knew Sephiroth would not let him fall, but, as always, he was more willing to rely on his own abilities rather than those of another. They had been riding for over an hour now and he was becoming more relaxed as the sun rose over the mountains in the distance. His hands had gone clammy with anxiety when he had first mounted the giant bird, but the warmth of a solid body held steady behind him calmed his nerves. He had worried about the chocobo's ability to carry both Sephiroth and himself, but was pleasantly surprised to learn that the yellow mounts were quite powerful, despite their feeble look.

Goose pimples rose on his forearms as the cold progressed. Just because there was now a sun in the sky didn't mean said cosmic body was doing its job. He had thought it was cold in Midgar, but as they traveled farther north, he soon learned that there were far colder locations. He also knew that this would not be the worst of it either. After staying overnight in a town Sephiroth and Zack had referred to as Kalm, he knew they would be ascending into the frigid mountains . . . and would inevitably have to endure the even colder nights.

When they finally rode over the ridge of the slope, he loosened his grip on the thick golden feathers and shifted forwards in the saddle, sure that Sephiroth would not want him so close now that the birds had made it onto level ground. Zack's chocobo, whose feathers were as dark as night, sprinted to catch up to them. The dark-haired man had fallen behind while climbing the ridge, a sign that his bird was not as fine a specimen as Sephiroth's. Cloud wondered, had this been the very same gold chocobo whose chest he had tripped face-first into before meeting Tylus? He certainly had a strong feeling that this was so, but there was no sure way to prove it.

He had held his gaze to the back of the bird's long, muscular neck to prevent himself from becoming motion sick, having learned that he was susceptible to the illness after riding in Sephiroth's car. Chocobos definitely swayed more than cars. He finally decided to chance letting his eyesight wander in order to take in the scenery.

They were now cantering through a golden field of tall, dry plants. He focused ahead of them, where he could barely discern the edge of the field, which appeared to give way to a vast stretch of green wilderness. As they rode nearer, he saw that the green was littered with what appeared to be massive monoliths of stone. He was then distracted from his thoughts by Zack's overly cheerful voice.

"Hey Spike! You see those boulders ahead?"

Cloud nodded before he remembered that the dark-haired man most likely could not possibly catch the gesture, as the chocobo's constant bobbing made it near impossible. Regardless of his apparent lack of response, Zack continued anyways.

"Those are the remains of an ancient city called Novia. Well, all that remains on the surface anyways."

Cloud shot him a questioning look, his curiosity seeking more information. Instead of receiving it from the source he had expected, Sephiroth had decided to quip him with the answer. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the man's wide chest vibrated with the production of his deep melodious voice, reverberating through his spine with a pleasant tingle.

"There are ancient scripts that were recovered from the surface that suggest that there is more to Novia than one can see above ground. Though many have done years of research and digging, that theory still has not been proven with credible evidence."

Cloud knew this might sound childish, but he had to ask. "Do you think the scripts are true?"

Sephiroth was silent as he considered his answer. "I am not sure, but I do not believe the possibility of an underground city is plausible. If it ever did exist, then it has most likely collapsed in on itself, thus the reason those who have searched for it have yet to succeed."

"Hmmm," Sephiroth's reasoning made sense . . . a lot of sense actually. Maybe he was right. If there had ever been an underground city there, it had most likely crumbled in on itself, but Cloud would have liked for Sephiroth to be wrong on this subject. The mere concept of an entire civilization thriving beneath the soil fascinated him.

He stared in awe as they passed the great stone figures. Most were simply towering walls adorned with intricate carvings in a foreign alphabet that Cloud couldn't even begin to decipher, but one, although not half as large as the others, caught his gaze and held it. A magnificent stone wolf crouched atop a lush ridge, alone, yet powerful. It seemed to be stalking them. As they drew nearer, Cloud took in every detail his senses would allow without the aid of touch. The beast's eyes were fierce red gemstones . . . rubies perhaps, why hadn't any passing thieves taken it upon themselves to pirate them away? The creature's fur had been weathered over the years, as well as become home to many mosses and lichens, yet Cloud could still spy the original carvings of wisps flowing along its massive body. The jagged teeth were forever frozen in a savage snarl . . . a promise of death.

**88888888**

Zack grinned as he took in the sight of the blond before him. The young man stared at the stone wolf until he was forced to relent his observations by the human body's limitations. Zack wondered if, had Cloud been an owl, if his head would have turned completely around. Sephiroth's face was expressionless, as was the norm, yet Zack thought he knew what path along which his general's thoughts were running. Since the hour Zack had decided to take up the challenge of bringing the two together as far more than friends, he had been searching for a way to put the white-haired man in a compromising situation, but it would appear said situation had conducted itself, or rather, Sephiroth hadn't taken one thing into consideration. He was a man, and when friction was applied to a certain part of male anatomy, well, let's just say pants had a tendency to become tighter.

Zack had spotted Sephiroth's grave error the very moment the man had mentioned riding double with Cloud and hadn't been able to reign in his devious grin. He idly wondered just how far the General's self control extended. He would never force himself on Cloud, but that didn't mean he couldn't house a longing for reciprocation, and that's exactly what Zack had planned. Before Sephiroth could even think of gaining the blond's attraction in that manner, he would first have to acknowledge his feelings toward the blond himself. Zack knew that would be a problem, but not one that would last for more than a few months. Sephiroth tended to be rather stubborn when it came to admitting things to his worst critic . . . to himself, especially when it came to admitting when he wanted something.

Zack studied his friend again. This time, Sephiroth's face did foreshadow his thoughts. Zack smirked as the man frowned, an obvious sign of irritation. He wondered if Cloud had noticed. Observing said blond, he decided that, no, he hadn't noticed, being too engrossed in his surroundings. Cloud hadn't been out of Midgar in many years, of course his mind would be on the world around him, not the man behind him.

**88888888**

Sephiroth sighed as Kalm came into view. The last leg of the ride had been torture for him ever since they had ascended that steep incline. While going up the hill, Cloud had been shifted backwards, pressing them bodily together. Yes, he had been close to Cloud often, but, on those occasions, they hadn't been riding on a swaying chocobo. Sephiroth had been fine until the teen's round backside shifted against his groin, sparking a natural reaction.

He had feared the blond would notice. After nearly being taken against his will, Cloud would probably be frightened by the realization that one of the only people he had begun to trust found him attractive in such a manner. Sephiroth would never act on his feelings of course. He knew better, but Cloud didn't know that. Thankfully, said adolescent had seemed too intent on maintaining his own balance and not falling from the chocobo's back to notice.

When they had reached the wheat fields, Sephiroth had worried that Cloud would once again focus his attention to things nearby, but, instead, he had opted to squint at the horizon . . . the ancient ruins of Novia to be more specific. Sephiroth had ascertained that Cloud would not have noticed his . . . problem, but that had not solved its every aspect.

He had finally willed down that instance, but The Planet must have decided to punish him for some long forgotten crime, for, as they headed down the ridge into Kalm, his erection returned with a vengeance. The sun was now lowering itself behind a wall of mountains, surrounding Kalm in a colosseum of The Planet's own natural statues.

His cock begged for release . . . he begged it would behave and leave him be. Now Sephiroth dismounted the bird, rather uncomfortably, and hastened into the inn to establish their rooms for an overnight stay, leaving Zack to assist Cloud from the chocobo's back. He knew that, if anyone chanced a glance down to that general area, they would no doubt notice his dilemma . . . especially Zack, ever the observant pervert.

Once inside the inn, he was grateful that the counter came above his waist, shielding his lower half from the keep's vision. The young girl sat behind the desk, a green book of what appeared to be poetry resting in the lap of her simple lavender dress. She seemed to be completely submerged in the flowing scripts, not even taking notice of him until his tall shadow loomed onto the book's pages.

"Oh!" She closed the book hurriedly, but not fast enough for the persistent appendage pressing against the confines of his dark pants. It would seem he would have to fix his problem the manual way, preferably behind the walls of a private bathroom.

"How may I assist you?" Several inappropriate images flashed through his head. Even if he was gay, he could always close his eyes and pretend she was someone else . . . someone male . . . someone blond . . .

_What am I thinking?!?_ He shook his head. This was bad. He wasn't that attracted to Cloud . . . _was_ he?!

"Sir?"

_Dammit, the girl!_ He had momentarily forgotten where he was.

"Yes, I need a room for the night. Two beds please." His voice would have given him away had the girl had any experience with the subject, but, either she was yet a virgin, or she had politely decided to ignore the clues. Then again, it could have been the fact that she had never heard his voice before, and thus had nothing to compare his current husky tones with.

"Just a moment please."

Fuck! His cock didn't _have_ a moment!

Finally, the young brunette looked up, her green eyes ominously apologetic. "I'm sorry, General Sephiroth, isn't it?"

Sephiroth nodded deftly, wondering what she could possibly be apologizing for.

"We only have one room available. It has one bed, but there is a sofa."

Sephiroth nodded. Perhaps he could convince Zack into sharing with Cloud while he slept on the sofa. Now that his body had shown obvious interest, he would not chance a repeat of the night before. Cloud would definitely notice any of his cock's treacherous reactions if he were being spooned in his sleep. He payed the young girl the correct amount of gil and headed straight to the room, the bathroom to be more specific, sure that Zack would have enough brains to ask the inn-keep where their room was.

Once in the bathroom, he sighed heavily, grateful that he had finally gotten a chance to remedy his predicament. Shrugging off his heavy coat, he turned the shower tap on cold.

_We'll see how you like this, you prick._ Great, now he was talking to his own penis!

He freed said appendage of its leather prison and couldn't help the breath of relief that left his throat. Leather pants were great and all, but they tended to get a little too tight on certain occasions. Removing the rest of his clothing, the lean man stepped into the icy spray, gasping. Now he only had to wait for the cold to work its wonders.

After waiting for several frustrating moments, Sephiroth cursed his virility. The cold had done nothing but dampen his desires, which wasn't to say much, as they were still of a high degree. He had wanted to avoid masturbation. He always felt as if he had let himself down afterwards, but it had been so long . . . since . . .

_Damn it all!_

Feeling resigned, Sephiroth lowered his hand to the persistent organ standing at attention between his legs. He needed to get this over with. He had already taken far too long, and was sure Zack had grown suspicious by now.

Turning the tap to warm with one hand, he gripped his thick erection tightly with the other and began to stroke himself with leisure. Yes, he needed this! He closed his eyes and leaned against the cold tile wall, the only evidence of his body's pleasure being his quickened breaths and closed lids. Sephiroth had discovered that he was the type who rarely expressed his pleasure with vocalizations. As he neared his climax, he fisted his leaking cock harder, faster, stopping occasionally to carress the tip with his thumb. He was so close.

With a silent moan, he came, but the pleasure of his orgasm was drowned out by the guilt of the images that had reeled through his mind during his blinding ecstasy. The images, they had all been of Cloud. Cloud, lying beneath him in his bed, his face softened in ecstacy. Cloud, pressed against him in an urgent kiss. Cloud . . . a mistreated sixteen-year-old whom he was forbidden to touch.

Sephiroth wanted to punch himself. Cloud had judged him reliable. Cloud had given him his trust . . . his hard-earned trust. To do that, Cloud must have made himself believe that he, Sephiroth, was not like other men, not like Matthew . . . but, in a way . . . when his true core had been revealed, he was. He was no different. Sephiroth hated himself now. He didn't deserve this young man's trust, his friendship. He buried his face in his hands at the realization that he wanted this boy . . . and he wanted him badly, but Cloud was the only person he could not have.

He could not allow Cloud to know his feelings. The man would never speak to him again, perhaps even run away. Sephiroth didn't want to even imagine what Cloud's fate would be like if he were alone with no financial support. He could hide the true depth of how much he cared if it meant he wouldn't lose Cloud as a friend. He would have to.

**88888888**

Zack smirked as his friend walked stiffly into the inn. Sephiroth had a hard-on, and there was only one source that could have encouraged it. Cloud.

_That is unless Sephiroth likes chocobo's a hell of a lot more than is safe for his mental stability. _Zack grinned at his own witty humor.

Cloud glanced at him with a confusedly hurt look. He obviously had no idea what had caused Sephiroth's curt behavior.

"Come on Spike, let's get our stuff into the inn." He gave the blond a hand down from his mount and proceeded to remove their packs from the birds as well. Carrying both Sephiroth's and his own, he led Cloud, who had insisted that he carry his own luggage, into the inn just as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. Now the only light illuminating the streets came from mako-lit lanterns.

As he had expected, Sephiroth had already gotten a room and headed upstairs, most likely to the bathroom. He made his way to the counter, where one of the cutest girls he had ever seen sat reading a book. He let the packs fall to the wooden floor, creating a loud thump, causing the girl to look up, eyes twinkling.

"Yes?"

"I believe a man with long, white hair just purchased a room a moment ago. We're with him, so would you mind telling us the number, Beautiful?"

"Of course." The brunette smiled as she glanced down at a chart on the desk. "Mr. Sephiroth is in room seventeen. I hope you have a nice stay." Zack smiled at her and continued up the staircase to their room. He may have flirted more if he had not had Aeris back in Midgar, but he was not that shallow.

He turned to Cloud who was trudging along the hallway behind him. "You're being awfully quiet. Something up?" Maybe he had noticed Sephiroth's arousal after all?

"I'm sorry. It's just . . . " the blond hesitated, "Sephiroth . . . He seems . . . tired? . . . maybe?"

"Oh," Okay, perhaps he still had not noticed. In a way, that was a good thing. Cloud was still fragile from the whole Matthew ordeal. Zack wanted to put his friends together, not scare Cloud away before Sephiroth had even taken an attempt at starting a relationship with him. He studied the teen as he opened the door to their room. He was worried, shoulders slumped, face sullen. Maybe he thought something had angered Sephiroth. Maybe he thought he had angered Sephiroth somehow. Zack had to fix this before the boy developed too many negative feelings and went back into that no-talking-unless-spoken-to habit.

"I think he mentioned something about not feeling well this morning before you woke. He probably is tired." There. Well, he hadn't exactly told Cloud that Sephiroth wasn't angry, but he had given him another reason to accredit the white-haired man's odd behavior to. He had to be discrete after all.

As they stepped into the room, Zack immediately took notice of the single bed, then traveled to the massive purple cushion-like couch. He could sleep one more night on a couch if it meant his friends would be happy in the future. He knew Sephiroth, who was currently showering if the sound of spraying water was anything to go by, would not want to put himself in any position that might merit such a reaction as the previous, but he had to make sure he and Cloud slept on the bed together. He glanced at the darkened window. They would be setting out early tomorrow, right? Of course. That meant Cloud would need plenty of rest, which meant he should turn in early.

"We're leaving out early again in the morning, so you should probably get to bed as soon as possible."

Cloud nodded. "I guess I am kinda tired. Riding a chocobo takes away more energy than I expected."

Zack barely suppressed the smirk that threatened to show on his face as the blond began to ready himself for bed. Cloud sat on the maroon blankets, then looked up, as if he'd just noticed there was only one.

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"The couch, where else? I sleep on Seph's more than I sleep in my own bed. I find them quite comfortable actually."

Cloud gave him an odd look as if to say _I knew he was mentally unstable_, and slipped under the blankets after removing his outer clothing.

_Well, one of my chess pieces is in place. Now it's time to take the queen!_ Zack hastily carried out his nightly bedtime routine and situated himself on the couch, covering his body with a blanket from his bedroll. Now Sephiroth only had one option left, the bed.

He listened to Cloud's quiet breathing until it finally evened out. Gaia, what was Seph doing in that shower?

_I'll bet five hundred gil that my first guess is right! Mother, I am such a perve._

His thoughts came to a halt at the absence of the sounds of running water. Zack closed his eyes and purposely evened out his own breaths to feign his sleep. If Sephiroth knew he was awake, he would probably make him move to the bed with Cloud. He lay as still as possible as he heard the door open and damp footsteps pad into the room. They made it about halfway across the floor, or so he judged, before stopping. Silence. Pure silence. Zack imagined Sephiroth was staring at the bed at this moment, most likely cursing a certain brunette in his own mind. Zack smiled as he heard a resigned sigh and the click of a light switch.

**88888888**

Cloud awoke the next morning curled into a ball, once again, beside a wall of warmth. He had begun to grow used to waking next to a living, breathing being. He did not move. Instead, he listened to the lulling rhythm of Sephiroth's deep breaths. Cloud could feel the steady rise and fall of the man's broad chest. He wished he would never have to leave this comfort, this paradise. He wished he could just lie there forever, drinking in Sephiroth's warmth, his . . . care? Yes, care. Cloud dared not say love. No one could ever love something that was as broken and useless as himself . . . no one.

Cloud wondered if he himself would ever be capable of having feelings for someone else. Was he too full of distrust? Was his soul so broken and twisted he could never allow himself to grow close to another? A single tear rolled down his cheek. Even with his new-found freedom and friends, he would never truly have someone who cared. Sephiroth would get tired of his imposing presence sooner or later. Later, he hoped. Though, now that he thought about it . . . honestly thought about it, he realized he had never been so happy in all of his life. His mother had always ignored him, even struck him at times, and he'd not had a single friend back in Nibelhiem, save one dark-haired girl, but her father would not allow them to speak to one another, so that had not gotten very far. In the orpanage, he had been alone . . . always alone. Kids usually grouped together in small packs, but none of the groups had accepted him. He had always wondered why. Perhaps he had not even wanted their companionship. Even he could not say, or maybe they all had seen him as the village had, as a freak, a nobody. But he did not know what happiness felt like, so how would he ever know? Was this happiness? Maybe. All of his physical needs were being appeased for once in his life, and he had learned to smile . . . to laugh. Smiles and laughter meant people were happy. Right?

Cloud sighed heavily. If only he knew these things. He knew a lot as far as knowledge went, but when it came to the inner workings of his less depressing emotions, he was a complete moron. Who could blame him? How could he be expected to know how to lable these foreign emotions when he had never felt them before? He didn't know what they were, but he did know one thing. The closer he was to Sephiroth, the stronger they felt. Another tear slid down his face as he realized he could be in love with the man, but his feelings could not possibly be returned . . . never. Love . . . he didn't know what that felt like either. Maybe it was something else he felt towards the General, but what if it was love?

He was suddenly jolted out of his dark thoughts when an all-too-cheery voice burst into the room. "Wakey wakey before I eat all of the eggs and bakey!"

Cloud sat up quickly. He hadn't expected Zack to be awake yet, much less downstairs getting breakfast. After all, he had taken the cheery man as the type to sleep in late, but, now that he looked back on the short time he had known him, Zack always gotten up before himself, sometimes even Sephiroth. Speaking of which . . .

The white-haired man sat up and slid his legs onto the floor. Cloud watched the man's sinuous back muscles as they flexed, an odd feeling in his chest. As Sephiroth stood, Cloud couldn't help the blush that flooded his cheeks. Sephiroth took note of his reaction and followed his gaze down to his own boxer shorts. Then the man also blushed slightly.

"Nice boxers Sephy! You know, I've always wanted a pair like that!"

The subject of their scrutiny, Sephiroth's yellow boxer shorts, were, indeed, a sight to behold, especially when the identity of the undergarment's occupant was taken into consideration. Their color was a close match to the color of the chocobo they had ridden yesterday. Not only were they the color of a chocobo, but said birds were printed in rows across the material, creating an odd pattern of cartoonish feathers and beaks.

Sephiroth's only reaction was to swipe up a pair of black leather pants from his pack and stalk into the bathroom with a grunt of annoyance. Cloud turned to Zack as the man handed him a tray of fully loaded hash browns.

"Did you know you can't wear underwear with leather pants?"

Cloud was a little surprised by the question which was obviously Zack's way of concealing a statement of fact. In reply he shook his head, as his mouth was currently full of potatoes, cheese, and ham.

"That's why he's gone into the bathroom to put on his pants. He has to take off his boxers first." Cloud marveled at the truly absurd grin on the dark-haired man's face. This man was one hell of a puzzle, but, then again, he supposed he was a bit of an enigma himself, so he really had no room to talk.

Sephiroth emerged seconds later and went about donning the rest of his attire, discretely depositing the offending underwear in his case. As he turned around, Zack ventured to ask one of the weirdest questions Cloud had ever heard.

"Hey, can I have your underwear?"

"Zack, don't tell me you've become one of those pathetic swoons who worship me as an idol and keep a shrine of me in their closets."

"No! I just want your underwear. I've been looking all over for a pair like those, but I can't find any!"

"Zack . . . you bought me those."

The brunette blinked several times, then slumped his shoulders in defeat. After a few seconds of apparent thinking, his eyes returned to their normal happy manner. "Well, I want them back!"

Sephiroth shook his head as if Zack were a young child. "You can have them back. That's the first time I've worn them and I'm none too fond of the reactions they draw from others. Cloud looked as if he was about to burst into laughter."

"Ha! Wait until you see the ones I picked out for him!"

It was now, or so Zack had decided, Cloud's turn to be embarrassed. Which pair had he decided to sleep in? Unfortunately, he had no time to remember. He yelped in protest as Zack threw off the blankets, revealing . . . black, nothing but black. Cloud sighed in relief until he remembered what was on the other side of said black undergarments.

"Zack, there's nothing humiliating about solid black underwear." Sephiroth pointed out.

"You just wait until he stands up!"

By now, Cloud's face was flushing savagely.

Sephiroth gave them both a questioning look accompanied by his trademark gesture, the raised eyebrow. Cloud idly wondered if the white-haired man could live and communicate without those thin lines of white hair above his eyes. It certainly seemed as if he deployed his eyebrows in every conversation to substitute the words _Why?_ and _What the hell?_

**88888888**

They had left the inn at the first sign of light, Zack casting a flirtatious smile at the still-drowsy innkeep. Sephiroth, once again, found himself riding double with Cloud, not being able to find it in himself to refuse the blond, though they had switched positions. This one was a little better, but not radically so. Sephiroth had claimed commanding the chocobo was easier with Cloud behind him, rather than in front.

They were well into the foot of the mountains now, and ascending quickly, wanting to transcend the summits by nightfall and make camp on the other side. Sephiroth sighed listlessly as Cloud's arm shifted around his waist. Nope, this position was _no_ better than the last, but at least he would not get an erection in this manner. To say that these feelings did not vex him would have been like saying giraffes were midgets. He should not be feeling this way toward Cloud. The blond would be terrified of him if he found out. Maybe it was just a temporary thing that would go away with time? He hoped so, not wanting his own selfish emotions to ruin their innocent relationship.

Their relationship. Sephiroth couldn't explain it. He was so much more than a friend to Cloud, or so he felt. In the base of his feelings, he knew he harbored a strong need to protect Cloud, but it could not be described as fatherly. It felt more, dare he even think it, possessive. He hadn't noticed before, but now that he did, he realized he even watched _Zack_ like a hawk stalking a hare when said brunette was near the young man. This was not good. Perhaps if Cloud had not been so harassed where sex was concerned, then he might have considered starting up a relationship, but, from what he knew of the blond, no one had ever approached him in such a manner for any reason other than sex. Like before, it led back to the same conclusion. He would scare Cloud away. He could not protect something that wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

It just wasn't fair. Matthew had ruined his chances with the only person he had ever truly cared about. All the little bastard had wanted was a one-shot fuck with no strings attached. _He_ wanted more, but, thanks to Matthew, there was no possible way he could ask for it without pushing Cloud away.

_Maybe if I just wait a little longer. Perhaps, when he trusts me more, maybe he will develop the same feelings. After all, there's still so much more about him that I don't know. What was his life like at the orphanage? Why did the people of Nibelhiem send him all the way to Midgar to begin with? What else did Matthew do to him? Did he have a father?_

Sephiroth was squeezed painfully back into reality as his blond conundrum wrapped both arms around his waist tightly, said action accompanied by a audible wince from the teen. Sephiroth assessed their environment. They were nearing the ridge and would soon, or so he guessed, be treated with a breathtaking view of the valley below. Their only surroundings were conifer trees, thick with needles, a cliff face, empty of threats, and a scattered array of towering boulders, most enveloped in blankets of spongy green moss. No outside source could have caused the teen's apparent pain, of that he had ascertained himself. Zack too had halted his bird and was now attempting to pry Cloud's clenched arms from around their human stress release.

Sephiroth reached down to help the brunette. For someone as underweight as Cloud, the adolescent had a strong grip. Together, the SOLDIERs made slow progress, prying the young man from the older's waist, Cloud displaying signs of obvious pain. Sephiroth dismounted hurriedly as Zack lowered the writhing blond to the forest floor. Sephiroth knelt beside him, noting the beads of sweat rolling down his temple dispite the chilled atmosphere.

"What's wrong with him, Sephiroth?" Zack's voice portrayed slight panic.

Unfortunately, Sephiroth too had no explanation for Cloud's sudden change in well-being. He had administered the teen a mako injection just this morning before departing from the inn. That couldn't be the problem.

Cloud's screams increased in magnitude and his fingers left Zack's abused wrists to dig into his own skull. Sephiroth held him down as his body tried to thrust forward. Cloud's eyelids shot open, revealing a near-blinding glow. Zack even covered his eyes. The intense luminescence meant one thing. Whatever was going on inside his body, the mako did not find it agreeable.

Finally, Cloud lay limp from exhaustion, or so Sephiroth assumed. The blond still cried out at unpredictable intervals. The emissions were heart wrenching. The white-haired man wished fervently that he could relieve the teen of whatever the cause of his torture. Cloud's hands slowly left his temple, where they had left behind ten small bloody crescents and sought out the durable leather of his coat.

Sephiroth leaned over him, brushing his hand over the bloodied brow. "Zack, get a damp cloth." His voice was thick with concern.

Slowly, Zack nodded in silence and went to retrieve the requested item. In seconds, Zack had returned with his canteen and a cloth, wetting it on the spot. Sephiroth took the proffered linen and set to work cleaning away the mixture of sweat and blood, muttering comforting nonsense the whole while. Thankfully, Cloud's emissions of pain had died down to unintelligibly shaky utterances.

Breathing heavily, Cloud opened his eyes, which were still glowing unnaturally bright, and focused them on his face.

"Hungh . . . awahhh . . . away."

Sephiroth ceased his actions. What had he meant? Did he want Zack and himself to leave him alone?

"Awa . . ay . . . from hhhhee . . . re." The end of his choppy sentence was punctuated by a sharp intake of breath.

"He wants to get away from here. Away from this place?" Zack's face looked grim and confused. "I don't get it."

Sephiroth shook his head. "Neither do I, but I think we should do as he says. We can't make camp here anyways. Our tent is liable to roll down the mountain in our sleep."

Sephiroth mounted the chocobo while Zack lifted Cloud up after him. He settled the teen in front of him, leaning fully on his chest. He could not possibly become sexually roused in a situation like this. What if Cloud was ill? Fatally so? He clenched his eyes shut. No, he couldn't lose the young man now, not after he had confirmed that he had feelings for him.

_You'll be okay. I promise I'll do anything it takes to be sure of that._

Cloud's body shook from exhaustion as they finally reached the ridge's summit. Sephiroth took in the gorgeous view, but was unable to appreciate it. What had happened to Cloud? He had noticed that his condition was growing better with time. Perhaps it was only an isolated incident, but he still yearned to know what had triggered Cloud's pain. The blond's head lay propped beneath his chin, his breathing ragged. Sephiroth wished Cloud could enjoy the valley below from such a prime position on the peak. After all, anyone who had never seen anything of this nature before in his life would certainly find this breath taking.

"We'll make camp here." His voice was oddly silent, barely audible over the chorus of the thousands of cicadas around them. Zack had been completely silent ever since they had last mounted . . . a rare occurrence.

Zack prompted his chocobo, Sen-Sen, to lie on the ground so Cloud could rest against her while they set up camp. Cloud groaned a futile complaint as the bird nuzzled his hair. Sephiroth would have chuckled at the realization that the hen most likely thought Cloud too was a chocobo, due to the feathery appearance of his hair, but the circumstances were too grave.

After they had finally wrestled the giant sheet of polyester into something that resembled temporary shelter, Zack took it upon himself to prepare dinner, canned chili they had packed along. While the brunette busied himself with that, Sephiroth lifted Cloud into the tent and placed him in his bedroll. Two blue eyes were trained on him.

"I'm sorry . . . "

Sephiroth paused as he knelt over him. "What do you mean? You have nothing to apologize for."

"I'm . . . too much trouble."

"Cloud, this is not your fault. It must have something to do with the mako in your body."

"I should never have gotten . . . bitten."

"You had no control over that either."

"But . . . maybe . . . I should never have left the . . . orphanage . . . should've just let Matthew . . . " Tears were slowly rolling down his pale cheeks.

Sephiroth gently took the blond's chin between his fingers and forced the blue eyes to look into the emerald of his own. "Don't say that." His voice was more harsh than he had intended. Softening his tone, he repeated his words, "Don't say that. Cloud, none of the bad events in your life were your fault. Don't take the blame for them."

"None of them would ever have had the chance to occur if I hadn't been born. They're all my fault. My mother's death . . . Matthew's death. You could have been hurt when you rescued me from Tseng . . . You could get hurt when we find him."

Sephiroth shook his head and took the still-shaking hands into his own. "No, Cloud. Matthew deserved what he got, and I knew the dangers I was facing when I saved you. That was my choice then. This is my choice now. If I obtain any injuries during the next few days, they will be my fault."

Cloud remained silent for a moment. When he did speak, his voice seemed void of emotion. " . . . But it is my fault my mother is dead . . . "

Sephiroth had no reply to this, as Cloud had yet to tell him how his mother had passed away. Unable to think of any ways to console Cloud's latter words, Sephiroth had no choice but to listen as the teen continued.

"If I had never been born . . . my father would not have left her . . . She wouldn't have killed herself . . . It's all my fault . . . my fault I was sent to the orphanage, my fault . . . I shouldn't even be here." He inhaled a sharp breath and choked as he let it out. The tears continued in greater numbers.

Sephiroth hesitated, afraid to get too close to the object of his affection. If he revealed too much, Cloud would become suspicious, but that did not currently matter. His heart clenched at what Cloud had said. _Is that what he truly believes? How could someone go through so much pain only to blame it all on himself?_

He removed his hand from the blond's heated brow. Was Cloud coming down with something? He skin was warm to the touch . . . too warm, and he had begun to shiver in earnest. He looked so small as he lay curled into a ball on the blankets, shaking with unwarranted remorse and Gaia knows what other emotions. No, Sephiroth didn't care if his feelings were discovered. He couldn't just kneel there beside the most important person in his life and watch as he suffered.

Slowly, so as not to startle him, he lay down beside the weeping young man and wrapped his arms around him. Cloud started at first, not yet accustomed to the benevolent physical contact, but melted into his chest as he ran his fingers through the tousled blond locks.

"Cloud . . . You cannot control fate. No one can, so don't blame all of your pain, or the pain of anyone else, on yourself. That will only ruin the rest of your life. Do you understand?" He received no answer, but continued anyway. "Suicide is a decision made by the person who wishes to commit it, and no one else. While outside influences can cause depression, it is still, ultimately, that person's choice in the end, and no one else's. That was your mother's choice, not yours. After all, if you had never been sent here to Midgar, I would never have had the pleasure of being your friend."

_I don't think I've ever had a conversation like this with anyone before . . . though I've never felt this way around anyone else before either . . . _

Cloud's shaky breathing halted for a brief moment. " . . . friend? I'm not a burden, an annoyance?" The words fell from his lips as if the realization were as much a shock to him as that of any old-fashioned mother who had just been informed that her daughter was a lesbian.

Sephiroth closed his eyes tightly. An annoyance? A burden?

"Oh Cloud. Is that what you think? You think I don't want you here?" Sephiroth held Cloud closer, so close his fingertips recognized the feel of ribs beneath the blond's skin. He was still so _thin._

An intense anger flared in his chest, directed at no particular person, but at every factor that had contributed to Cloud's anguish. Because no one person was responsible, Sephiroth could not possibly punish them all, as there were a great many, or so he guessed. Besides, most of them likely had no idea what sort of state they had amassed together to drive Cloud's mind into. Somewhere the blond had clearly drawn up the lie that no one wanted him around, perhaps even loathed his presence. Sephiroth was no invalid. He knew the origin of these types of perceptions . . . abuse, emotional, physical, and sexual. Emotional was an absolute definit, but what of physical?

_Surely not his own mother . . . What about the staff at the orphanage? _

Then he remembered what Cloud had told him of Matthew. Tseng's nephew had even gone as far as sexual abuse, Sephiroth did not dare discredit his own reasoning in that matter. Even if Cloud had not outright told him everything, he couldn't help but wonder just how far the pervert had gone.

Cloud had very likely sufferred through all three.

_If only he would talk about these things._

"Cloud, you're not a burden, and you most certainly don't annoy me. _Zack_ annoys me. Besides, if I remember correctly, I carried you into my apartment myself while you were practically non-responsive, and I don't regret it. If you were a burden, I would have handed you over to Tseng as soon as you'd recovered."

He stroked the nape of Cloud's tender neck, wondering how much time they had until Zack burst in demanding that they eat his creations. That didn't matter . . . not now. Cloud mattered. After much hesitation, he lay down his head to rest on the pillow next to the nest of blond spikes. Unexpectedly, Cloud turned and burried his face further into his chest, if that was even possible.

"I'm sorry . . . I . . . I just . . . " Cloud's voice was muffled.

Sephiroth pulled away enough to reveal the blond's tear-stained face. He slowly reached out his hand and wiped away a falling droplet. "It's okay Cloud. I understand more than you think I do." He guided Cloud's head to rest on his outstrecthed arm. "Let the tears fall. Let your emotions off your chest. You'll feel substantially better tomorrow."

And that's exactly what Cloud did. Sephiroth could feel the fleet of tiny wet beads collecting on his chest as he held the weeping blond. He held Cloud for what seemed like hours. Had Zack slipped on some damp moss and fallen back down the ridge? He should have finished warming up canned chili by now. Sephiroth wasn't about to question his luck, not wanting Zack to burst in on what was most likely one of the few times he would actually get to be this close to Cloud. He knew he had become infatuated, but he didn't care.

He observed Cloud as he lay curled into him like a kitten. His tear-shed had ceased and he had begun the recovery process which consisted of shaky breaths, drowsiness, quiet sniffling and the drying of a wet face. Sephiroth offered him a blanket, which was accepted with much appreciation, from the other side of the bedroll. Once his face was dry, but still slightly pink, Cloud lay his head back into its former position.

"I'm so tired."

"I guessed as much, but you really should try to stay awake long enough to eat something before you dose off." Sephiroth shifted his hand against Cloud's side to acknowledge the presence of his visible bone structure. Then, feeling slightly awkward as the realization of their close proximity came to mind, he removed his hand from the thin hip.

"We should leave the tent now. I'm beginning to wonder if Zack somehow knocked himself out on a low tree limb."

With a light grin, Cloud began to stand. "I haven't known him long, but, from what I have learned of him, that seems like something he's capable of." He then exited the tent, turning back with a quiet thank you.

**88888888**

Cloud had emerged from the tent to find a frustrated Zack leaning over a pile of dry sticks and leaves. The dark-haired man held a lighter in one hand, and a piece of flammable paper in the other, obviously intending to light the paper to get the flames started before putting it on the tender, but, one small problem had arisen. Zack's rigorous efforts at creating fire were spoiled by the fact that the lighter seemed only able to produce small sparks each time Zack pressed the button, which was hundreds of times from what Cloud could see.

Cloud watched in amusement as Zack, defeated, placed the lighter on a rock and proceeded to smash it into tiny blue shards of plastic with another. Of course, as he did this, the combustible fluid splashed onto his hands and pants. Cloud then watched as he produced two stones of flint from one of the many pockets in his pants. He was aware of Sephiroth's presence as he too exited the tent to find this quite laughable scene.

Both silver and gold speculated the brunette's odd behavior as if they were two National Geographic journalists taking notes of a baboon. Zack was currently squatting over the tender digging in his cargo pants for, presumably, another source of fire. Finally, after searching four pockets, he triumphantly held up a box of matches. Cloud had expected him to go through half the box without success, but was determined wrong after the first strike. Zack began to lower the match to the pile of browned foliage, but, just as he was preparing to light said foliage, his arm jerked back in a surprised yelp, the sleeve aflame.

Zack frantically beat the unwanted blaze with his free hand, but had apparently forgotten about the lighter fluid on it as well. Now both of Zack's sleeves were on fire.

Cloud watched as Sephiroth rolled his eyes. "Use that," he suggested pointing to Zack's khaki jacket lying in the dirt. Cloud imagined that, if Zack were a comic book character, a light bulb definitely would have lit above his head at that moment.

The brunette rushed to snatch up the discarded clothing and soon vanquished the flames on his now-ruined shirt. Then, singed and embarrassed, he seated himself in the dirt with a thud of failure. Zack appeared to be staring angrily at nothing in particular. Then his eyes lit up like just as brighlty as the flames that had dampened them. "You know Seph, I think this is a perfect opportunity for you to teach Spikey how to start a fire."

**88888888**

The next morning Cloud woke to find himself extremely cold. Not only had he wriggled free of his bedroll in the night, he had also wriggled away from his white-haired human furnace. Shivering, he recovered his blankets and pulled them back to where they had lain when he had fallen asleep, next to Sephiroth, but before he lay back down, Zack burst into the tent with a boisterous greeting, rays of sunshine following him inside.

"It's snowing! Hurry up Spikey, come see!"

He heard Sephiroth shuffle behind him with a groan and was about to turn to him when he was bombarded by warm clothing. "Put them on Spike, and meet me outside."

"Snow," Sephiroth remarked, sitting up, "I have a suspicion that we'll be seeing an awful lot it within the next few days."

Cloud pulled on the fleece sweater and then the thick wool-lined pants. He had seen snow before, but had never been allowed to do more than look, as he was usually on the opposite side of a payne of glass. The orphanage staff never allowed them to play outside when it snowed, proclaiming that they didn't want them sick and miserable, but Cloud knew better. They didn't want their charges sick because the orphanage would have to pay money for doctors and medicines. Besides, he couldn't have felt more miserable in that place if they'd casterated him and threw him into a vat of boiling saltwater.

As he stepped out of the tent after wrestling on his boots, his jaw fell open. He had /seen/ snow before, but never in such abundance. Snow in Midgar meant one inch maximum. Apparently snow in the mountains meant three feet, and then some, as the fluffy white flakes were still falling in large numbers. Cloud knelt down and touched the tip of his forefinger to the crystals . . . His finger left behind an indentation where it had touched. He had read about snow in the books at the orphanage, but the details of its grander qualities had apparently escaped the authors. The icy material was usually described as something volitile and bothersome, so why had Zack made such a big deal of its presence? Speaking of Zack, where was he?

Suddenly, an object struck his back with quite a force, followed by a cold sensation. Fearing something had decided to attack him from behind and was coming in for another blow, Cloud whirrled around with reckless abandon and slipped, which led to him being sprawled spread-eagle in the soft, frozen flakes. He covered his face by instinct, but no impact came. Confused, he lowered his arms only to see Zack hiding behind a tree, or so he guessed was the brunette's plan, as said tree was far too thin.

At that moment, Sephiroth stepped out of the tent and almost stumbled over him. After regaining his catlike balance, Sephiroth quickly saught out the mass that had obstructed his path. At first, Cloud worried if the older man might be angry with him for falling down in front of the tent's opening, but he relaxed after he had deciphered the expression on the white-haired man's face. Confusion.

"What are you doing down there?"

"Something hit me, so I tried to turn around, but I slipped along the way," he replied meakly, wondering if perhaps, after the man had recieved his answer, then he would be angry.

"Something hit you? What?"

At that moment, as Cloud opened his mouth to allay that he didn't have an answer to the question, Zack broke out into histerical laughter which had obviously been pent up in his lungs for some time now. Sephiroth took one look at Zack's wet gloves and Cloud's snow-flecked back, and seemed to come to a realization. Cloud accepted the offerred hand and was pulled to his feet by a strong arm. He winced. His previously burned leg was still a little sore.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice while dusting snow off his front.

"Bruised maybe, but I'll be fine in a few minutes." Zack's snickering could be heard behind them.

"All of this snow will make it difficult for the chocobos to travel, so we should leave before it gets deeper." Sephiroth announced. "Cloud, why don't you go inside the tent and start packing things up. Zack and I will start out here."

Cloud nodded and made his way into the tent, intent on rolling up the bedrolls first. He still didn't know what had hit him. Maybe some snow had fallen from the trees above. Zack would certainly find that as an occurrance to be laughed at.

**88888888**

Sephiroth waited until Cloud had disappeared into the tent before he commenced his preemptive lecture. He stalked over to Zack, who was still recovering from his giggles, and stood there patiently . . . quietly . . . menacingly. That sort of stance always worked when it came to getting someone's attention. Personally, he hadn't thought Zack's little prank funny at all. It may have been if Cloud had fully recovered from his health conditions, but, while the blond was still so undernourished, no roughhousing could possibly do him any good.

Finally, Zack noticed the dark shadow looming above his crouched figure and looked up, the last of his giggles dissipating immediately.

"I know you mean well Zack, but that was going a little too far."

Zack frowned and looked down as if the white-haired man's boots had suddenly become quite interesting. "Gee . . . Seph . . . I didn't mean to make him slip, I swear it."

"He could have been hurt." Sephiroth's reprimanding glare remained undiluted. "If he had been bruised, which I have no doubt he has, that means his body has one _more _thing to cope with. His leg isn't even well yet, Zack!"

"Seph," Zack used the nickname to remind the towering man of their friendship, " . . . I'm sorry. I didn't think . . . It's just . . ."

"You thought it would be funny to throw a snowball at him first thing in the morning. You laughed at him Zack . . . How do you think that will affect his confidence? We've just recently gotten him to smile."

Zack seemed momentarily confused. "Seph . . . I wasn't laughing at him. I was laughing at you because, as I'm sure the majority of the masses would agree with me, seeing a graceful man like you trip over something is pretty damned funny."

Sephiroth remained silent for a moment, leaving Zack to display his trade mark sign of uneasiness, snaking his hand to the back of his head to sift through the mass of short, brown spikes.

"I suppose I overreacted. Just . . . be careful with him. He's still . . . still so fragile . . . physically and mentally." Sephiroth sighed briefly before turning back towards the tent. "We should get packed and going soon, or the snow will get worse." He enterred the tent, leaving Zack outside alone. He stood there for a moment, looking pensive, before a sly half-grin painted his lips. "Concern . . . That's definitly a good sign." Scratching his chest curtly, the brunette bent and began to pack up the items they had used outside.

**88888888**

Even though Cloud was dressed in his warmest clothing, a black tee beneath a black fleece sweater, which was beneath the jacket Zack had bought him with Sephiroth's money, his body still managed to be cold. The warmth of Sephiroth pressed to his front helped tremendously, but that didn't keep his legs warm. The cold writhed its way through the wool with the soul purpose of carressing the skin beneath with its icy tendrils. And to think, he had thought snow wasn't as bad as people made it out to be. Humph! Now, after riding a chocobo through it for little less than an hour, he found that he detested the flaky white crystals. With snow, came the cold . . . Cloud hated the cold . . . Perhaps because he had never truly been warm? Either way, snow was, in his eyes, unpleasant, and that was that. Too bad he couldn't use the blade Sephiroth had gifted him with, now strapped to his waist, to kill the snow . . .

_At least it's stopped falling . . . for now . . . _

Not only did the snow bring his nemesis, Cold, but it had also slowed their travel by a colossol margin. Unlike the day before, when the chocobos had run their hearts out, today the large, yellow birds fought their way through the packed ice like chisels in a wooden block. They would never reach the bottom of the Hollow at this pace. Either that, or he would become an ice statue in due time. The Hollow . . . from what he could see from his height advantage in the mountains above, was naught but a deep gorge, the bottom of which he hadn't yet seen. How could there be a safe house down there? Had Sephiroth been given faulty information? Or maybe the entire concept of 'safe house' meant that it was supposed to be in an inconspicious location, such as the bottom of a dark gorge.

"The birds need to rest," Sephiroth's rich voice vibrated through the man's back, thus doing the same to Cloud's chest. He could fall asleep just listening to that voice. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen as, in order for the chocobos to rest, he had to dismount, which meant he couldn't be so close to Sephiroth without a feasible excuse.

They stopped near the edge of the gorge, which Cloud avoided at all costs.

He accepted Sephiroth's hand down from the tall bird's back. Although he had grown slightly, as he had noticed at the inn, he was still on the short side of the spectrum. He followed Zack to sit on a log that had evaded most of the snow while Sephiroth tied the birds to a tree. Cloud felt sorry for them actually. He knew what it felt like to be so close to freedom, yet not close enough to grasp it.

Sephiroth brought them each a generous portion of dried beef accompanied by plenty of water. Cloud set out with the intention of devouring the meat, following Zack's example. Sephiroth took his place on Cloud's right, whereas Zack had placed himself on his left.

"So," Zack began, "When we find Tseng, what exactly do you have planned for him Sephiroth?"

Sephiroth chewed over his answer on the jerky. Finally, he swallowed and gave Zack his reply. "I had originally planned to simply run him through with Masamune, but . . . I've decided that's not anywhere near the severity of what he tried to do to Cloud. So, instead, I think _we_ should tie _him_ up and set the safe house ablaze. I plan to make sure he knows what he put Cloud through."

"That sounds like a plan to me!" Zack cheered.

Cloud sat in silence. He didn't truly care what Sephiroth did to Tseng . . . as long as the man was dead and he didn't have to go to prison. The thought of walls and men he couldn't trust made him shudder.

"You're cold?" Sephiroth turned to him.

Even though that hadn't been the cause of his shiver, he was cold, so he nodded.

"I don't think we should risk a fire this close to the safe house. Someone might see the smoke and we will lose the element of surprise. I'll get you a blanket." Sephiroth stood and made his way to their tethered mounts.

While Sephiroth was away, Zack asked, "So, how do you feel about Seph's plan?"

Just as Cloud was about to answer the brunette's question, a loud crack resounded from behind them. There was something in the forrest . . . something big if the creaking of the poor trees was anything to estimate by. Zack had leaped to his feet, hand on his gigantic weapon, which Cloud had learned was called a Buster. Sephiroth too had heard the movement and had opted to draw his lengthy sword in full. Sephiroth had yet to teach Cloud the basics of swordsmanship, so he didn't even bother. Instead, he jumped to his feet, ready to flee if the need arose.

Sephiroth had rushed to his side, Masamune at the ready. The sound of trees giving way beneath the weight of some mammoth creature echoed through the brush. Whatever it was, it had decided to annouce its presence by emitting an ear-peircing screech akin to that of a dying pig. Sephiroth held his katana higher and stepped in front of him wholly. His heart pounded. What if Sephiroth got hurt? Sure, he had rescued him from a fortress of armed troopers, but . . whatever this was, it was no ordinary trooper.

Cloud turned at a sound from behind him . . . an answering screech from the other side of the narrow passage. They were trapped, sandwitched between the two beasts. Zack too had heard the second and turned to face it, Buster held at the ready. Cloud felt as if his heart would tear itself from his chest. This wasn't an oversized dog in an allyway, this was two monstrous beasts next to a steep drop off with, from what he could see, no bottom.

He heard a crash from behind him and wheeled to see a gargantuan, black mass of legs and eyes. Sephiroth held his ground, the only thing between Cloud and the giant arachnid. The monster clicked its dripping fangs and dove at the silver-haired swordsman. Sephiroth's blade was as fast as lightning, taking off one of the spider's legs. As the limb hit the ground, Cloud was splattered with thick yellow liquid that smelled of old cheese.

As Sephiroth fought one of their attackers, Zack too had been given an opponent, another spider, but this one had green stripes on its coarse, black coat of nettles. The brunette leaped into the sky and came crashing back down into the insect's back, forcing a hidious cry of agony from his bucking target. Cloud had never seen such speed in his life. Both of these men were incredible.

As he turned back to check on Sephiroth, horror struck him as his gaze flicked over the edge of the gorge. Was he seeing this correctly? No! This couldn't be happening. A third beast, even larger than the other two, had muscled its way up the side of the drop off somehow. Sephiroth and Zack were preoccupied with their own problems . . . what now?

Cloud froze as the creature's multiple eyes drifted over him, then stopped. It was coming straight for him! The spider launched itself in his direction. Snapping from his stupour, Cloud dodge-rolled the monster's attack, causing the beast to continue its momentous leap into the cliff wall above them. After the monster hit, Cloud felt an ominous rumble reverberate beneath his feet. Sephiroth too seemed to notice, as the man's eyes widened in dread just after he had driven Masamune upward into the first beast's chest, causing yet another earsplitting cry to ring out through the icy cliffs as the beast fell to the ground, legs still twitching.

Zack on the other hand, seemed to be struggling with the striped arachnid, which was now attempting to impale him with a wet stinger. The brunette rolled out of its way each time, but how long would he last until he got unlucky?

The third spider stood, rubble from the rock face falling from its body. It searched around, as if dazed, then spotted its fallen comrade. Presumably angered, it thrust back its upper body, standing on its back legs only. As its back hit the cliff face, the earth let out another sinister grumble, but this time the grumble didn't stop. Rocks began to tumble from the ledge above, striking the largest spider. Sephiroth tried to hasten to his side, but the second spider chose then to go tumbling between them, unfortunately still alive. The beast shook itself and advanced on Cloud. He had no choice but to back away, closer to the bluff than he was comfortable with. The monster kept coming, forcing him closer to the edge. Sephiroth was fighting for his life with the largest monster on the other side. Zack was . . . where was he?! Had he gone over the side?! NO! That couldn't happen! Zack was his friend!

Cloud halted as his heel felt the edge of the rock. He had run out of room to run, but the spider was still coming. His death was inching closer, clicking its salivating fangs in delight. Behind the beast, the larger of the two reared its ugly head in pain and, again, struck the cliff face as Sephiroth relieved it of two of its barbed legs. The boulders began to tumble from above just as before, colliding with the green-striped arachnid which was too preoccupied with the closeness of its prey to notice.

Cloud saw it as if in slow motion. Down from the ledge above came the one of the largest boulders of them all. It struck the hungry spider, but just kept coming. It carrened in his direction, or, more accurately, in the smaller spider's direction. Just as the monster had readied its fangs for a death blow, the rock struck it from behind, pushing it foreward even more. It's attack missed, but its massive body was coming striaght for Cloud, and he had no where to go. The beast's body was going to bring him over the edge with it! He tried futily to dodge between its legs, but more and more rocks rolled down, pushing him back . . . pushing him back to the edge. As he was sliding into the gorge, his foot caught something. This was his last chance. He had to push himself back up, or he would surely die.

To his dismay, the pressure he exerted on his life support caused the fragile stone to chip and crumble away. He dug his fingers into the hard earth . . . anything to stay alive, but he was still slipping . . . slipping to his end. It couldn't end this way. He had been happy for once . . . happy . . .

He was vaguely aware of Sephiroth's hurried footsteps. If only he could hold on a little longer . . . his angel was so close. Only a few more steps and he'd be rescued . . . but he just couldn't hold on any longer. The last thing he saw as he fell into the darkness were the terrified emerald eyes of the man who had given him his life back . . . the eyes of the man who shouted his name in deperate anguish as he slipped to his death.

**88888888**

Author's Notes:

How did you like the new chapter? I'm sorry it took so long to post it, some people have more on their plate of life than others . . . My life truly is ironic. I can go for a month as bored as hell with nothing to do then, suddenly, I have five hundred things to do all at once. I'm surprised I'm not bald because, trust me, not all of my responsibilities and worries are positive. In fact, if I get one more negative thing I should just go ahead and keel over dead!

*huff* Now that my rant is over . . . How have you been?

As for the chapter itself, it turned out a hell of a lot longer than I expected. I apologize for the cliff hanger (pardon the pun.) And, NO, CLOUD IS NOT DEAD. I REPEAT, NOT DEAD!!!!! From his point of view, he thought he was going to die. As I was writing in his point of view, I had to write using only his knowledge . . . not the knowledge of the almighty author who controls his fate. As for Zack's fate . . . you'll just have to wait.

This chapter has been updated as of 12-10-08.


	11. Guilt

DISCLAIMER: Final Fantasy belongs to Squaresoft and various other interested parties, not me. I'm not making any money from this, and no infringement of copyright is intended. This is a work of fandom, intended as appreciation of the original work.

WARNINGS: Violence, Blood (For those of you who are sqeemish yet have a vivid imagination wether you like it or not.)

**Chapter Eleven**

**Guilt**

_Darkness._

_Confusion._

_Sorrow._

_Loneliness_ . . . A sense that someone should be with him, but . . . who?

As he drifted closer and closer to the unwanted realities of consciousness, the nightmare replayed through his mind. There were so many things, now that he looked back, that he could have done.

_Why didn't I use my sword?_ Yes, his sword. In his moment of fear, he had forgotten all about the weapon Sephiroth had given him . . . Sephiroth . . .

He felt tears come to his eyes, regret that he hadn't thought quickly enough in his panic to remember his gift. Maybe he could have held his ground against the giant spider long enough to distance himself from the ledge . . . long enough to get closer to Sephiroth. Would he ever see the man again? After the fall . . .

_The fall . . . How did I survive?_

He opened his eyes . . . only to find that darkness ruled the territory beyond his eyelids as well. Where was he? Probably lying somewhere at the bottom of the hollow. He sat up slowly as his mako-enhanced vision began to adjust to the overpowering blackness surrounding him. How, he didn't know, as there didn't seem to be any light for his eyes to absorb. His muscles were sore. How long had he been lying here? He strained his ears for any sound whatsoever. Wind . . . steadily blowing through his black environment . . . and . . . dripping water?

Using what little vision he had in the pitch blackness, he took in his bleak surroundings. Rocks . . . nothing but cold, hard rocks, glistening with the moisture from some unseen spring, but there wasn't a plant in sight. He appeared to be sitting atop a particularly large, round boulder . . . an incredibly . . . soft? . . . boulder? Something wasn't right. He pressed his hand to the surface . . . and froze, his fingers traveling over hundreds of coarse, dark hairs. The wind wasn't wind at all, but the sound of massive lungs exhaling carbon dioxide. He had landed on some sort of sleeping creature!

_Well, at least it broke my fall. It's a miracle the rocks didn't crush me_.

Whatever breathed beneath him had obviously saved his life with its precarious location, but was it in itself a threat? He didn't want to find out. He inched his way to the edge of the beast's bulbous body, and slid down onto what he prayed wasn't another section of its anatomy . . . the darkness still hadn't revealed all of its secrets to his sight. He placed his hand down to brace himself for the last jump to what he presumed was the ground, but stopped short when the object he had placed his hand on moved, producing a slimy sensation beneath his fingertips. His breath shook from the state of his nerves, but he stopped breathing altogether when an unwelcome familiar sound reached his ears. The foreboding clicking of . . . fangs . . . spider fangs!

Not only had he survived the fall, but so had the great, green-striped arachnid. Had he had the time to consider it, Cloud would have taken some appreciation in the irony of his situation, being saved by a creature who had just tried to kill him and still, by all means, could, but . . . the creature could still kill him! His heart leaped into his throat as the beast came to life with mammoth, swaying movements. Cloud clung to what he had subtracted to be the insect's head, where nature had placed its many moist ocular orbs. He ignored the wet sensation at his chest as the beast blinked rapidly, trying to devoid itself of his presence, but Cloud knew the monster couldn't possibly eat him if he remained where he was . . . _if_ he could remain where he was. The beast reared itself and body-slammed the nearest rock wall in an attempt to dislodge him. The dark stones, as Cloud was thankful, didn't crumble one bit, being solidly packed from the weight of the less durable rocks above. Cloud tightened his grip as the spider shook itself like a wet dog, but almost lost his hold anyways. He would have if the beast hadn't suddenly come to a stop. He stared, petrified, into its many eyes, each one reflecting his pale identity.

All was silent, except the sound, and feel, of his thudding heart high in his chest. He was positive the spider could feel it too. What was the spider doing? Out of curiosity and dread, he released one hand from its spiny hold and peered over his shoulder. The hungry clicking had started up again, and Cloud almost panicked when he spotted one of the creature's jointed legs stalking in his direction. The spider was going to simply pluck him off like a parasite and, most likely, kill him. Thinking fast, Cloud rolled from the beast's head.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, he bolted in the only direction available, straight ahead, which took him deeper into the uncharted darkness. He couldn't hear the spider following behind him, but he knew it was there. He knew it would give chase, and he dared not chance a glance over his shoulder to prove himself wrong. He stumbled through the black, slippery rocks like a blinded mouse until, by chance, he spotted a break in the rocks that appeared darker than the rest. A cave? He prayed his mind hadn't chosen now of all times to play tricks on him.

He heard an angered screech and the smashing of stone and dove for protection just as the spider thrust itself in his direction, fangs flexing wide as it prepared to strike. Cloud frantically rolled into the stone shelter, his head smashing against the rocky entrance with force. Abiding the blast of pain in his skull, he scrambled away from the prodding fangs that had followed him into his sanctuary. They opened wide and snapped closed meer inches from his foot. He tried to retreat further into the darkness, further away from the predator, but found, to his dismay, that he had no room to back up. The indentation in the rocks was barely large enough to accommodate his slight body.

_Maybe I should just hang tight for now and see if the bastard will tire of trying to reach me . . . But what if it figures out it can fit its legs in here and pull me out? _

Cloud's thoughts raced just as they had the time when the mako-enhanced pit bull had tackled him to the ground . . . that seemed so long ago. Then he'd had a dagger in his boot. _Now I have something better. _The sword Sephiroth had given him! He tried in vain to manouevre himself into a position that would allow him enough room to draw the weapon, but he was blessed with no such luck. The only way he could get the sword from his belt was to stretch himself out to full length, which would place him within range of the spider's salivating fangs.

_So many wonderful choices . . . _

Either he waited until the monster found another way to pry him from his hiding place, or he risked losing his legs. Maybe . . . if he could find something to lodge in between the arachnid's fangs long enough to grant him time to free his sword of its sheath. His hands traveled over the cold, stone floor . . . nothing.

_Maybe . . . _

He pressed his hands to the walls, still nothing. Then the ceiling . . . just as he was about to give up his search, his fingers groped over a loose stone overhead. Now he had only to work it loose. Being careful not to extend his legs beyond safety, he set to the task of freeing the stone from its confines. Finally, after chaffing up what he was sure to be a sizeable blister, he held his prize in his hands. Just a plain, black stone like any other stone in this Gaia forsaken hell, but this stone was different. This stone, barely the size of a grapefruit, would help save his life.

With a smirk of triumph, he thrust the stone into the spider's grasp.

_Chew on that, fucker!_

The monster withdrew its pinchers from the cave with a damning shriek. It would be back as soon as it had devoid itself of the stone. Cloud worked frantically, unsnapping the straps holding the blade to his side. Why did there have to be so many? After working his way through three belts, he drew his sword with the victorious sound of metal sliding against boiled leather.

As he had predicted, the spider returned to its foul exploits, fangs just as vigilant as ever. Grunting from the effort, he drove his weapon deep into the beast's mouth and thrust upward, splitting the arachnid's upper jaw in two oozing halves. Such a cry of agony erupted from the monster that Cloud was forced to cover his ears. When the scream had died down to a loose pattern of pained yelps, Cloud uncovered his ears and listened in relief as the spider stumbled away rather than coming back for more as he had expected.

_He won't be able to eat anything for a while. Maybe it will starve to death._ He was panting heavily.

His head pounded along with the beat of his frantic heart, each pulse sending an almost unbearable throb throughout his temple. He lay down, groaning in pain. After regaining some semblance of a normal heart rate, he removed his jacket, sweater and undershirt, the latter of which he used to dampen the free flow of blood streaming from his skull. Gaia, it hurt. Even more so than the burns he ventured to think. He cleaned his precious sword against the hem of his pants. He then folded up the fleece sweater, intending to use it as a pillow. He didn't even bother putting the jacket back on. Instead, he threw it over himself like a blanket. There was no use leaving his safety for now . . . at least not until his body had recovered from its build-up of aches and pains. Between the previous ambush high up on the ledge miles above, his fall, and the most recent attack, he felt like shit. He only hoped he wouldn't drift into a coma in his sleep. His head hurt pretty badly. As unconsciousness claimed him, his last thoughts were of Sephiroth. Where was he? Was he hurt too? And what about Zack? Was he alive? Would he ever see either of them again? Would he ever again feel the warmth of Sephiroth lying next him? He hoped so . . . his hands sought out Sephiroth's gift and he clung to it in his sleep.

**88888888**

If Sephiroth thought traveling on a chocobo through two feet of snow was time-consuming, then he had obviously never tried traveling down a steep mountain ridge through _three_ feet of snow on _foot_. He now wished he had tethered the birds tighter, but, then again, if he had they may have become a spider's meal so . . . damned if he did, damned if he didn't. The terrain here was anything but hospitable. He had been descending down into the hollow for hours, judging by the sun's position. The sun . . . that which was now barely visible over the steep ledge of the drop. The crumbly sandy-colored rocks and ledges had begun to give way to a more solid stone the color of polished coal. He imagined that, should anyone land on such volatile ground after falling over a mile . . . surely they would have either been smashed to pieces by the impact, or diced to pieces by the black stone's naturally-formed, blade-like edges. All logic said neither Cloud, nor Zack, could possibly have survived the long fall.

He clenched his eyes in guilt, almost unable to contain his overwhelming self-loathing. If only he had kept a closer eye on the blond. If only he had noticed Cloud's predicament a second sooner. A second. One minuscule, meaningless unit in time had made _all_ the difference in determining Cloud's fate. If he had reached Cloud only one second sooner . . . the teenager would be safe by his side right now, not somewhere alone at the bottom of a black abyss. He had been so close, his hand mere centimeters away. Even if Cloud had somehow miraculously survived the drop . . . only ThePlanet knew what kind of bloodthirsty monsters thrived down there.

He was growing exhausted. Yes, this barren environment was harsh enough to tire even the Great General Sephiroth. After Cloud had been lost over the ledge, the giant spider had gotten in a blow of its own during his moment of overwhelming, dumbstruck grief, lashing one of its massive, barbed forelegs across his back like a serrated whip. The wounds were deep, and the blood was horrible, as was the seering pain, but he couldn't dress them himself due to their unsavory location. Not only that, but now he would be in need of a new leather coat. His arms and shoulders had grown stiff not only from the deep gashes along his back, but also from latching on to the cliff face so he wouldn't slip over the narrow ledge. He dared not look down because, when he did, he found himself, once again, reverting to the logic that nobody could have lived through so far a fall. Not Cloud, not Zack, Hell, he himself wouldn't have made it.

. . . but he had to make sure. He could never forgive himself if either of his friends was lying somewhere down in the darkness broken and battered . . . dying a slow, drown-out death. He had to know. He needed proof. If one of them had survived, if they both had survived, he could make up for his carelessness and save them. How could he have been so ignorant of the occurrances around him earlier? He wasn't even sure Zack had gone over the edge at all. For all he knew, his dark-haired friend could have been devoured. Then he had been too engrossed by his fight with the third spider that he hadn't even noticed that Cloud was in danger . . . fatal danger. Hadn't he promised himself he wouldn't let anything happen to Cloud?!

_I failed him . . . miserably . . ._ He fought down another wave of sorrow. The brand which, before recently, had been so foreign to his heart. The intense sensation was heavily laced with anger. The only other occasions he had experienced it before now were when Cloud had come clean about his past, when he had discovered Tseng's unsavory intentions for the blond, and at night when he reflected on the abuse he knew Cloud must have been through both before and during his time in the orphanage.

He sighed. How could he possibly live with himself? Cloud had trusted him with his life . . . and he had been the one to suggest that they follow Tseng into Owl's Eyes Hollow. This entire journey was all his fault . . . the deaths of his friend and . . . dare he think it . . . the one he loved were all his fault.

_No, they're still alive. I know it . . . they have to be . . . _Or maybe it was just his desperate wishful thinking . . .

He gritted his teeth as a shock of pain jolted through his upper back. This was going to be a long night. He made his way, inch by painful inch, further down into oblivion. His strength threatened to abandon him, but, each time, he had only to think of Cloud and Zack to force himself to continue. Maybe, if the two were indeed alive, perhaps they had found one another. He knew that wasn't altogether unlikely, no more unlikely than their survival anyways.

The further he lowered himself into the Hollow, the darker it became, and it certainly didn't help that the sun had left the sky hours ago only to be replaced by a crescent moon which put off very little luminescence. He looked down, straining his enhanced vision, dreading the memory of Cloud slipping over the ledge, but, thankfully, was not plagued with it this time. Instead, a brief flash of joy flitted through his chest at the sight of solid earth less than twenty feet below. He scrambled to reach the Hollow's bottom and found he couldn't wait quite long enough, jumping the last few yards or so.

He landed with the thud of heavy boots and a crumple of his leather coat, which he couldn't wait to get off. It was cold down here, he wouldn't deny it, but he had worked up a hell of a sweat. He took in his surroundings, his lips forming into a slight frown. There was no vegetation in sight, nothing aside from the cold, hard stone like that which he had been clinging to for the majority of the day. That meant the landings of his friends couldn't have been favorable. Once again, logic threatened to dampen his spirits, but he ignored his mind and chose to follow his heart instead. Now all he had to do was to estimate where he believed Cloud had fallen and pray he found what he was hoping for.

**88888888**

Cloud woke with a start, his heart racing. He had suffered a nightmare that Sephiroth had been decapitated by the giant spider after he had fallen from the ledge. That wasn't true. It couldn't be true. His breaths came in short, panicked gasps.

_But what if . . . ?_

_It's not! The dream meant nothing,_ his conscience firmly asserted, but he couldn't help but worry. Was Sephiroth alright?

He sat up, careful not to bump his already bleeding skull on the stones above his head. He shivered from the surrounding cold, amplified by the properties of the stoic granite around him. Wiping his eyes, his mind fumbled for what he should do next. He should probably go look for Sephiroth, but what if the spider returned? Or what if Sephiroth came here looking for him? His thought process was interrupted by an ache grumbling from his stomach. His body wanted breakfast . . . but there obviously was none.

He eventually decided it would be safe to venture a small distance from his shelter, just to get his bearings in the sunlight . . . the sun . . . what time was it? Something had been nagging him ever since he'd woken, now he knew what that something was. It was still dark. Nowhere near as dark as the night before, but still dark enough to obstruct his vision. Thanks to the mako, he could see most of his surroundings, though he still couldn't make out the identity of a shadow here and there.

He looked to the ledges high above. The gray sky snaked above him like a stream. Yes, it /was/ daylight. The sun just didn't have the strength to reach quite far enough to illuminate the hollow's damp lower regions. With a sigh, Cloud sat himself upon the nearest rock, which he didn't have to genuinely /search/ for, considering there were naught in the barren place /but/ rocks. He wiped his brow and inspected his hand, which bore evidence of both dry and fresh blood. He supposed he had better begin his day by cleaning his newly acquired laceration.

He propped his chin in his hands as he worried his bottom lip, at a loss for available resources. He theorized that he could use his undershirt, but then he would be ever colder.

_. . . but I still have my jacket in the cave . . . _

Either way, he knew he couldn't meander about at the bottom of a deep gorge with a freely bleeding wound. What if there were other creatures down here aside from the gargantuan spiders? The smell of fresh blood would certainly have an entire managerie of carnivorous beasts on his trail. Making up his mind, he removed his upper-body clothing down to his undershirt and proceeded to tear the thin material into one long strip, a task which demanded concentrative ingenuity. His bare skin shivered its displeasure, demanding the redemption of its exceedingly desired protection.

After he had created a makeshift bandage, he drooped his arms to his sides in frusteration. To properly divest his wound of filth, he would require the use of water. It irked him to be aware of the dampness all around him while there was no source of the liquid available for his own use. Rocks didn't need water! He needed water! After retrieving his jacket and katana from his shelter and restoring his clothing, minus the under shirt which he stuffed into a deep pocket, he set out to find water.

He wandered through the chill, dank shadows, following what he hoped would prove to be the sound of running water rather than lone gusts of wind twisting through the jagged rocks. The cold had truly begun to take its sapping tole on his battered body. He had grown tired, and, even though his fall had been broken by the body of the spider, his muscles and bones still ached from the sheer impact of his landing. He knew he would find several bruises should he decide to take it upon himself to check for them.

He hugged his arms to his chest in a vain attempt at trapping in what little heat his body had managed to produce. His teeth had long since begun to chatter, and powerful tremors wracked their ways to the surface from somewhere deep within the confines of his chest. He was so cold he wondered if his body would be able to continue at his sluggish pace. Blood continued to trickle from his hairline, traveling its way down his face and neck and stopping at his collar where it found itself absorbed by his now-stained clothing. He just could not bring himself to remove his arms from his body long enough to wipe the crimson liquid away.

His breaths panted through his blue lips as his body grew tired. Cloud supposed the cold had begun to do the lethal part of its job description, as he could no longer feel his extremities at all, much less push himself any farther. He tried valiantly. he truly did, forcing his legs to press onward, where to he hadn't a clue. He just knew that he couldn't give in. If he gave up . . . surely he would die here on the icy granite . . . alone. He didn't want to die alone. Sure, he had prepared himself to die when Tseng had tried to incinerate him, but then . . . he hadn't known. He hadn't known about his feelings . . . for Sephiroth. Sure . . . he never expected the man to actually . . . love? him in return, but at least they could be friends. He couldn't be friends with anyone if he froze to death. But he just couldn't go on any longer . . . His shivers had stopped, but only because the cold had chased them away too . . . and he felt so tired.

Gritting his teeth through a weak moan, Cloud dropped to his knees in defeat. His body just wouldn't obey his mind, no matter how loudly he screamed at himself to get up. It was as if his nerves had frozen . . . even though he knew that wasn't possible. Still on his knees, he tried to push himself back up, but only succeeded in stumbling further to find himself lying flat on the chilled stone beneath him. His strength waned with each breath, and his limbs felt like lead. He ordered himself to get up . . . but he just couldn't. This time he couldn't even manage to make himself move.

As he lay there, his eyelids became heavy just as the rest of him had. He lost this battle as well, just as he had with his limbs as his mind hazed over. He fought it, he fought hard, but, in the end, he couldn't stop himself from drifting into oblivion.

**88888888**

Sephiroth had not stopped to rest once during the freezing night. His body shook from the cold. Not even the thick leather of his coat could keep out the chill. He was surprised no snow had begun to fall, though he had expected that the once-damp stones around him were now slippery with ice. It had been cold last night, but not this much so. He supposed a blizzard had blown in miles above him at ground level.

His wound hadn't stopped bleeding altogether, but he could feel that the amount of wetness on his back had indeed decreased. Wether it was from his body's enhanced healing or from the icy weather,he didn't much care. All he cared about at the moment was finding his friends. Zack could take care of himself out here. He had been trained and prepared for situations like this, but Cloud hadn't. Cloud was virtually defensless in this barren arctic wilderness, aside from the katana he had given him, but the cold couldn't be held at bay by a sword, neither could starvation. He had still been so skinny. Sephiroth wondered if the blond would ever be given a break from life long enough to actually gain enough weight to hide his ribs. They weren't as visible now as when Sephiroth had first layed eyes on him, but they could still be seen when they shouldn't be seen at all.

He was beginning to wish his sword wasn't quite so heavy. The extra length was useful in battle, but, with his wounds and growing fatigue, the added weight had become an acursed burden. He unbuckled it, sheath and all, from his belt and drove in into a crack in the hard surface below, leaning on it to catch his breath. He was so tired, but he couldn't stop searching. Once again, he damned the terrain. The stones renderred tracking madeningly impossible. There were no footprints, no grasses to be trampled, no brambles to catch on to hair or clothing. There was nothing follow . . . nothing to lead him to Cloud. All he had was a vague guess as to where the blond could have landed, nothing more, and to top it off, he had passed his estimation point hours ago.

_. . . But, I can't give up. I . . . need to know! _

He loosened Masamune with a wrenching motion and forced himself onward. He would not leave this place until he knew for sure . . .

_I can't even bring myself to say it!_ No, he couldn't, but that didn't stop his mind from picturing a small, blond frame lying broken on the cold granite. His heart clenched in something akin to agony. If only he had been paying attention!

As he rounded a broad boulder, his eyes immediately darted towards a yellow beakon.

_Cloud!?_

In his excitment, he released his hold on his sword and dashed to the blond's side. Kneeling, he stopped himself before he could displace the prone figure into his arms. He dared not move Cloud. What if the fall had . . .

_Wait a minute . . . _

Cloud lay face down on the slate, icy suface. Surely, after falling from so far a height onto something so solid, such a landing would have . . . Gaia, there should not have been anything left of his friend but a splattered mess. Though he could see coagulated red matted amongst the pale spikes, there clearly was not enough to comply with a scenario such as the latter. Which meant . . .

_Maybe he landed in water . . . ? But he'd still have been injured from so high an altitude . . . how . . .?_

Sephiroth could rationalize no possible synopsis as to how Cloud had survived his ordeal at all, much less with so few injuries, but that didn't matter. In fact, he barely put any thought into that subject at all. He could always ask Cloud how he had survived later. He gently pressed his fingertips to Cloud's exposed neck, waiting for that reassuriong pulse that he prayed he would feel. There it was, the proof of life. At that moment, he felt as if his own heart would swell out of his chest with relief. All of those gastly images that had been flashing before his mind's eye for the past twelve hours had finally been proven wrong and taken their leave. He had pondered throughout his entire search for the blond how he could possibly have lived with the guilt of his carelessness . . . more accurately, of the results of his carelessness. But now, he could still repent for his negligence. Somehow, he had been given a second chance. Cloud was still alive, injured, but still alive.

Sephiroth rolled the teen onto his back, supporting the bleeding, bandaged head in his hands. Another thing, Cloud had to have been awake some time after his fall, or else the white cloth could not have been there. With a weak smile, he pulled Cloud close and cradelled him there, providing what little heat he could while further examining the limp form. He knew almost immediately what had caused Cloud's collapse . . . the cold. His lips were blue, his skin pallid and cold to the touch, and his breathes came far too slowly for Sephiroth's liking. Sephiroth stood as he shivered himself, lifting Cloud from the icy ground along with him. He had nowhere to go . . . nowhere to get Cloud warm. He wondered if his body heat alone would be enough to reverse the cold's effects on his too-light cargo.

_That would depend on how long he's been out . . . fuck . . ._ He didn't know exactly how long Cloud had been lying there, but he guessed it had been over an hour. He had to find some sort of shelter, get the teen's newest injury cleaned up, and nurse him back to the world of the conscious . . . all before Cloud got even colder and he lost his subject of adoration. No, Sephiroth more than adored Cloud . . . He had admitted it to himself as love, why couldn't he say it?

_Because I'm afraid . . . _

_Afraid of what?_ . . . It was far too complicated for him to fathom . . . or maybe he just didn't want to make his fears more real by organizing them into words . . .

Calculating his next actions, he shrugged off his torn coat, a trying task while holding someone in your arms, and cloaked it around his unresponsive friend, grunting at the pain caused by his stiffening wound. He didn't even want to dwell on the fact that the dark woolen sweater he'd worn beneath his coat had most likely become cemented to the thickening blood caking on his back. That would come later. Currently, Cloud's needs were more urgent than his own. He could take the pain. He was bigger, and healthier. Cloud had been half-starved in a orphanage for the majority of his life.

Turning back the way he had come, he made his path to Masamune, lying forgotten on the glistening granite. He knelt and latched it to his side with one hand, holding Cloud close with the other. It didn't feel right, being able to support the entirety of someone's weight with one arm, but he was the Great General Sephiroth, and Cloud was. . . well, Cloud.

Then he reeled back in the other direction, the way he had yet to travel. Maybe he could find some sort of shelter if he kept going. If not, he would have to make his way back here . . . the underside of that boulder was beginning to look pretty warm. It would protect them from the wind, if anything, but it wouldn't be warm enough to bring Cloud back.

Being weakened by the cold himself, which had grown even more insufferable due to the current lack of his coat, his progress was slow. He fell to his knees once, the sheath of his sword complaining against the hard ground, but he had managed to jostle Cloud as little as possible, keeping him gripped gently against his chest for warmth. As he knelt there, recovering some semblance of his energy, he looked up to the waining snake of light so far above.

_God . . . _But, of course, he recieved no answer . . . or did he?

Sephiroth blinked just to make sure his eyes weren't fooling him. Nope . . . it was really there, a dark patch among the blackness . . . a cave . . . but it was so high up. He doubted he had the strength left to make such a climb while carrying the blond. The incline . . . there /was/ no incline . . . it would be a vertical ascent . . . straight up . . .

_But I have to . . . or there won't_ be _a Cloud anymore_.

Now . . . how to do this? He definitely couldn't climb that with one arm. He studied the pale figure in his embrace, again checking for a pulse just to make sure.

_It's gotten slower . . . He's growing weaker. _With a growl, he clutched the blond closer, as if he could physically hold his life inside the limp body . . . keep it from drifting away.

He lay Cloud back onto the stone and began to rifle through the pack on his belt. He should have some rope somewhere. Finding it, he bent down and began to tie the blond's thin wrists together . . . tightly. He couldn't tie the bonds too loosely. He wouldn't risk it, even if he disliked the idea of putting so much strain on his unconscious friend. "I'm sorry, but I can think of no other way." He apologized aloud, just to reassure himself that Cloud was still there, albeight unresponsive.

Once he was satified that the knots would hold, he placed Cloud's bound hands around his neck, so that the blond's head rested against his chest. Sephiroth was content for the moment just to observe the nest of spikes.

_Surely it wouldn't hurt . . . He won't know . . . _He pressed his lips lightly to the top of the blond's head, not caring about the flaking blood that had dried there. /

_Stay with me . . . You're safe now . . . Just hold on a little longer._

With little more effort than it took to stand alone during his fatigue, Sephiroth pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the ridge face. For a moment, he just stood there, arms' temporarily supporting Cloud's limp body. He just stood there, gaze aimed upwards . . . to his destination. It would be hard, but he had to make it.

With a iron determination that had conquered nations, he pressed onwards, ready to defeat the disconsolate obstacle before him. _I _will_ make it. For Cloud!_

**88888888**

Cloud was vaguely aware of the searing warmth that surrounded him. He wanted to know . . . wanted to be able to see its source,but he couldn't open his eyes. It was as if a translucent wall had formed between his mind and body. He could fell, but only just, but he couldn't hear a thing. The gentle heat around him shifted. He was not afraid of it . . . whatever it was. If anything, he was glad of its presence. Otherwise, he would still be completely oblivious. The last thing he remembered was . . . ice. A freezing chill that seeped into his skin and down to his very core.

_Am . . . I dead?_ Was the comfort around him the lifestream? Had he made it to the Promised Land despite what he had done to Matthew?

He felt a biting pain in his wrists now. No, he could'nt be dead. The afterlife was'nt supposed to consist of any pain . . . unless . . . maybe he hadn't been forgiven for Matthew's death . . . ?

The warmth pressed against his front, and he tried to touch it, reach out and grasp that benevolent presence. He yearned to know what it was, but he couldn't lift his arms.

_So . . . heavy . . . _

The heat surrounded him now. It had ceased its movements. Before Cloud even had time to formulate any scenarios as to what the presence was doing, he felt an even hotter sensation press lightly into his hair. When it pulled away, it left behind a cool tingling sensation.

_What . . .?_

Suddenly, the haze in Cloud's mind grew even thinker. Even the surrounding blackness was beginning to fade . . . and the heat . . . he was growing numb. He wanted to hold on to the warmth . . . the feeling of being safe, and . . . Had that been a kiss? He tried to force passed the walls, but in vain. Once again, he slipped into total nothingness.

**88888888**

Sephiroth pulled himself onto the ledge preceeding the dark cave, careful not to justle Cloud by scrapping him agaist the sharp edge. He was tired . . . exhausted, and his breathes cam in short heavy pants. Sweat rolled down his face , and he could feel it beading along his shoulders, causing the fermenting wound there to pulse with an incessant ache. He crawled awkwardly away from the edge and rolled over onto his back, Cloud now lying on top of him, still out cold . . . literally.

Now, as a result of his physical exertion, Sephiroth at least was no longer cold, but far overheated. He leaned up with a groan to allow himself room to untie Cloud's wrists. Once the ropes were off, he simply discarded them, too tired to bother putting them away. He intended to use the last of his strength to move Cloud into the cave.

He checked the blond's now-chaffed wrists, a small sacrifice to ensure his survival. Right now, he needed to get his friend warmer, before it was too late. Gently laying Cloud beside him so he could stand, he did just that, though a little shaky in his efforts. He swayed slightly before orienting himself.

_This is the last hurdle. Just get Cloud to safety . . . then we can both rest._

His muscles screamed their lethargy as he bent and lifted Cloud into his arms. The blond's head lolled back and he shifted his position, leaving the golden locks resting against his chest once more. He shuddered from the burst of pain that tore through his back. He was positive he had probably just reopened the wound. He moaned, gritting his teeth. His body just wanted to lie down and never get up again, but he refused to allow his physical being free reign of his actions.

Stealing himself, he tightened his hold on his waning load, and stalked into the cave. He couldn't stand to full height, but instead had to bend slightly as he traveled further intward, searching for an acceptable location to revive Cloud. A long way into the confines of the natural structure, his enhanced vision spotted a smoothed dip in the granite floor. It looked as if water had flowed across or perhaps gathered in the compound once upon a time. Perhaps, if he traveled even further back, he may even be able to find some water with which to clean their wounds. Looking back to the bowl or stone, Sephiroth voted that he much preferred the softened state of the black granite to the sharp jagged edges of the mineral outside. Not to mention the biting wind, which had almost blown both Cloud and himself to their deaths as he ascended the vertical cliff face, could not reach them here.

He lowered Cloud into the naturally formed cradle-like indention, mindful of the gash in his head, he proceeded to tuck his coat, which had inevitably seen its last days, around Cloud to preserve what little warmth he could. Sephiroth then left unwillingly to search for water further into the darkness. The farther back he went, the more sure he became that there was in fact water to be found. Not only did the clear untouched scent now pervade his nostrils, but a trickling sound danced across his ears like quiet music.

As the sound grew louder, he found the source at last. The cave didn't continue on forever, but ended abruptly at a dead end, which was, ironically, full of life. The water of life. Several small falls of water fell from above and collected in pools very much like the dried-up one he had left Cloud in. There had to be at least ten of these mesmerizing phenomena. Another thing, was he could actually stand in this cavern, the ceiling of which reached high above his stature of six feet and one inch. Any other time, he would have stayed and perhaps even fallen asleep to the gentle lullaby of the running water, but he had other things on his mind. Unceremoniously, he produced a large canteen from his belt and knelt at the nearest outlet to fill it. Capping the leather container, Sephiroth began his trek through the tunnel, grudgingly ducking back down to accommodate the lessened height of the stone above.

Returning to Cloud's side, he lifted the blond head into his lap and gently ran his fingers over the pale skin of his blood-dirtied face. He found the soft cloth he used to clean Masamune, then wet the material with the cold water. Sephiroth knew warm water would be much more ideal . . . but what was he supposed to burn? That last time he had checked, cold hard stone did not exactly make feasible tender.

Sephiroth began his task of peeling away what he had guessed to be a bloodied cotton shirt from the head wound. What he found underneath was not pleasant on the eyes, but, from experience, Sephiroth knew the wound was not as bad as it seemed. That, underneath the massive amount of blood, he would most likely find a much smaller lacerations than garnered by the amount of crimson. Head wounds, no matter how small, always bled like a punctured water balloon.

He was right. After cleaning away the matted colloid, he found, beneath the now-dampened blond, broken skin and bruises that appeared to have been caused by a fairly blunt object. Thankfully there was no infection. Having nothing with which to suture the now-clean wound, he reluctantly left it thus in favor of taking on another task.

Before Cloud could wake up, he had to be warmer . . . a lot warmer. Lying down beside him, Sephiroth pulled his charge back against himself and curled his arm around him. With the mess of blond hair nestled in the crook of his outstretched arm, using said limb as a pillow, Sephiroth lowered his chin into the feathery softness and inhaled the metallic scent of blood. No matter. He was tired, and Cloud desperately needed the body heat. Not that he would have minded anyways. He relished these moments when he could be so close to his . . . crush? No . . . that was too weak a word to use. His love? No, that sounded as if they were actually a couple, something Sephiroth knew would never come to pass. Either way, he enjoyed these moments immensely. He was vaguely thinking that this was the first time he had actually knowingly spooned himself to Cloud. He had usually been asleep and just woken to find himself in the precarious position, though Cloud had never protested. He was wondering why, when he felt a deep shiver travel through the enigma in his embrace. Good. Cloud's body was finally becoming aware enough to realize it was cold. He closed his eyes and draped his coat over the two of them.

_Everything will be fine in the morning . . . _

**88888888**

Author Notes:

I truly must apologize for the long wait, especially after such a cruel cliff hanger. You see, we've recently moved into a different house (My room is bigger, I have a giant closet, and my own bathroom! SQUEEE!!!!) Anyways . . . that is my most recent excuse for having temporarily lost my schedule of the usual one chapter a month.

As for the chapter itself, yes, I am aware that Zack has only been mentioned in a few sentences, and made no physical appearance whatsoever. That's because, well . . . the plot is about to explode frankly, and Zack now plays a key role, no longer just a comic relief. Teheheheeeee . . . well, I suppose that means I should give him a raise. And for all of you perverts out there, no, I did not mean it that way. This chapter was originally meant to be longer, a lot longer, but the information can wait until chapter twelve, whereas I'm sure you loyal readers can't. Thus, I have decided to cut chapter eleven here, at a nice fluffy scene.

In the next chapter, things will really warm up, and I don't just mean the weather. Just add in a cup of Sephiroth, a tablespoon of Cloud, stir in some Zack, toss in a pinch of Turks, and a smidgeon of . . . well, let's just say evil, and what do you get? CHAPTER 12!!!!!

See you next month . . . hopefully the seventh Harry Potter book won't keep me away from duty for too long.

This chapter has been updated as of 12-10-08.


	12. So Close

DISCLAIMER: Final Fantasy belongs to Squaresoft and various other interested parties, not me. I'm not making any money from this, and no infringement of copyright is intended. This is a work of fandom, intended as appreciation of the original work.

WARNINGS: Death, Violence, Gore, Language, Disturbing Content, YaoiSlash **(**_**= !!!**__*gasp*__**!!!)**_

**Chapter Twelve**

**So Close**

Sephiroth woke and soon found himself regretting he had done so. The comforting warmth pressed against his front was not enough to keep at bay the aches and pains of sleeping with his wounded shoulder on rock-hard stone. He lay still, dreading the moment when he would have to rise. He knew his wound had festered and grown stiff during the night. He could feel it, just waiting to crack open at his slightest movement. Sure, the mako had undoubtedly lessened his pain to some extent . . . but there was only so much the green liquid could do when it came to such a deep gash.

His own impending agony aside, the blonde sleeping deeply in his arms was fairing much better than the night before. His breathing had deepened, and his skin had begun to regain some of its natural glow. In short, he no longer looked to belong amongst the dead. Sephiroth gritted his teeth as he reached up a gloved hand to sift through Cloud's hair, searching for the wound. He found it, though it looked nothing like it had last night. The bloodied scalp had almost become a scar. This amazed Sephiroth to no end. He had noticed before, when the blonde had first come to him with the shredded arm and sprained ankle, and again when he had cut himself . . . and how could he forget the burns? Cloud's body seemed to heal at an alarming rate, even for one whose blood had been enhanced by mako. This, of course, meant that Cloud's body had taken to the substance remarkably well, which meant . . . Cloud would be needing larger doses more often. Which reminded him, had Cloud had any withdrawal symptoms during their time apart?

The chocobos had run off with their bags. Luckily, Sephiroth had a small supply of vials in his belt, but, between the combined use of both Cloud and himself, it would last only three days. He realized he still had his hand resting lightly on the blonde spikes. He studied it there . . . the long leather-clad fingers nestled amongst the pale featherlike texture. He had touched Cloud's hair before, but only in passing contact . . . and never, he realized, with bare skin. There had always been leather between Cloud and his fingertips. Thin, pliable leather, yes, but he'd worn these gloves long enough to know the difference between the black barriers and bare skin. He grimaced as the simple action of slipping off a glove caused a spike of pain to bolt through his shoulder. Setting the dark leather aside, his hand returned to Cloud's head, and he slowly brushed his fingers through its softness. It fascinated him how something so fine in texture could stubbornly stand on end at all times.

Cloud began to stir. He cursed himself inwardly. He had not meant to disturb the blonde's rest, even if they would have to set out soon in search of Zack . . . or anything for that matter. There was no game to be hunted, no vegetation to be gathered, and, so far, he had found only one source of water. On top of that, the cold was fatal. They definitely could not stay here.

He ground his teeth and could not hold back the grunt that issued from his mouth as he moved his arm back to its respectful place at his side. He could both hear and feel Cloud's yawn as the blonde moved against him, becoming more aware by the second. Cloud groaned and a small hand traveled upwards to rake through his own hair. Sephiroth knew the teen would most likely be suffering from a headache after passing out from the cold. It was a common symptom.

Then, Cloud stiffened as he became aware of the fact that he was not alone. Turning, the teen looked at him in confusion, but the expression was gone almost as quickly as it had come, only to be instantly replaced by a smile of pure joy.

"Sephiroth!" Sephiroth cried out as Cloud threw his arms over him, unknowingly brushing the stiff wound. Cloud pulled back gingerly, as if wounded himself. " . . . Sephiroth?" A note of the cautiousness that Sephiroth had hoped had left permanently had worked its way back into Cloud's voice. He balked, owing an explanation for his reaction.

"It's okay." He slowly placed his hand on the blonde's shoulder. "Just a . . . few cuts," he reassured the younger man.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I . . . I didn't mean to h-" Sephiroth silenced Cloud's over-apology with a finger.

"It's okay. You didn't know."

Cloud sat up. "You . . . found me . . ."

Sephiroth nodded.

"The last thing I remember . . . It was so cold. You've saved my life again." Sephiroth's chest ached at the sincere amount of gratefulness in the teen's voice. If it weren't for him, Cloud would not have fallen down here in the first place. Which reminded him . . .

"How did you survive?" Cloud started. He had been staring contemplatively at his own hands.

"How did you survive? The fall, I mean. I thought I was searching for the remains of a body."

At this, Cloud gave a wry smile. "It's . . . kinda ironic, actually." He gave a small laugh. "I fell . . . and I was sure I had died, but . . . when I realized where I was . . . " He shook his head. "The spider, the one that went over before me, I landed on it. I guess its hair cushioned the impact."

Sephiroth gaped. Cloud's life had been saved by the spider's location? He closed his eyes tightly. Cloud had been fortunate, almost too fortunate to believe. Was there any chance that Zack had done so as well? He didn't think so. As if reading his mind, Cloud spoke again.

"Where's Zack?" The blonde looked from side to side, as if expecting the optimistic man to be off snoring in a corner of the cave.

Sephiroth lowered his eyes in sadness. "I was hoping he would be with you. Obviously, he is not."

Cloud was quiet, that is, until Sephiroth heard him release a shaky breath. He looked up to find Cloud on the verge of tears. "Cloud . . ." He reached out his ungloved hand and forced himself painfully from his position lying of the ground. "Cloud . . . " he uttered again. Only a few tears had escaped their fleshy prison, but Sephiroth could plainly see that many more had built up behind the bars.

"If he's dead . . . It's my f . . . fault." A sharp inhale. "You both came out here because of me. You're hurt because of me . . . and Zack . . . " The tears broke free as Cloud buried his pained face in his hands.

"Cloud . . . " Sephiroth pulled the teen to him in a light hug. He should have expected this . . . that Cloud would blame this occurrence on himself. After all, he had done much the same after Sephiroth had rescued him from Tseng's inferno, claiming Sephiroth could have died because of him.

"Cloud, this is not your fault. If anyone's, it's mine. It was my idea to pursue Tseng out here . . . and . . . " He was interrupted.

"It's my fault you decided to come out here!" Sephiroth sighed and held Cloud closer.

"No, Cloud," He lifted the blonde's face and brushed away the newer tears with his thumb. "Tseng made that decision for me. His actions alone drove me to pursue him. Cloud, what he did wasn't legal, it was attempted murder." He had chosen his words most unwisely.

"Tseng wanted revenge because I killed Matthew. What I did was worse than attempted murder, it _was_ murder! I killed him!" He felt Cloud's hot tears travel down his chest as the teen wept into his neck with renewed vigor.

"You may have killed that boy, Cloud, but he deserved it. It is not murder if the victim in question deserves it."

"No one deserves death! No one!" Sephiroth barely understood the muffled words coming from his chest. His throat felt tight. That strange feeling was back. That mixture of anger at no one in particular combined with the overwhelming need to protect the teen in his embrace.

He pulled Cloud closer, if that were possible, and leaned down, so as to speak into his ear. "No one deserves what he did to you either . . . " Cloud quieted at these words, undoubtedly unable to formulate a veritable argument.

Sephiroth held him there a moment longer. When their embrace was interrupted by the sound of a growling stomach, Cloud pulled away.

"I couldn't tell if that was mine or your's." He made an attempt to dry away his tears with his arm.

Sephiroth chuckled. "Nor could I."

They sat in companionable silence until Sephiroth spoke. "We can't stay here. If Zack is out there, I'll bet he's headed toward's our original destination in hopes of meeting us along the way. Remember, he has no idea you fell too. Besides, regardless of whose stomach that was, I know we're both hungry."

Cloud nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. I know Zack's smart, even though he doesn't act like it." Cloud sat, hugging himself for warmth while Sephiroth packed what was left of his travel bag. "I hope he's okay . . . wherever he is." Sephiroth noticed the blonde had avoided the subject of food, most likely trying to keep his hunger at bay by not acknowledging its existence.

He turned to his comrade. "We'll refill our water canteens, then head back down into the Hollow."

Cloud looked up, obviously confused. "You found water? And . . . back down? What?"

Sephiroth smiled, despite his knowledge of the task ahead . . . They had to descend back down the exact same slope he had bested the day before. "Yes. I found water. There is a natural spring running into the back of this cave. As for what I meant by 'back down,' you shall see soon enough."

He could tell Cloud was still curious as he stood and offered the teen a hand. "Come. I'll show you." After helping Cloud to his feet, he lead the blonde in the direction of the water falls, knowing the young man had never seen one, much less so many in a single place.

_Fifteen years old, and there are so many everyday things he has never seen or experienced_. Or was it sixteen? He made a mental note to ask Cloud the date of his birthday.

As they neared the cave's end, a smirk crawled onto his face, a smirk of pride that he was most likely about to witness a very joyous Cloud. He knew he would never grow tired of seeing how Cloud reacted to such simple things with utmost appreciation. That was only one of countless things about the blonde that had won his heart so. Cloud took nothing for granted.

He stood back as the teen entered the colossal cavern, the walls singing with the rebounding music of running water. He saw Cloud's jaw drop as he came to an abrupt halt and took in the sight around him.

"This . . . " The blonde was temporarily speechless. "This is . . . amazing."

Sephiroth stepped up to stand beside him. "It is." As Cloud turned to him with a rare wide smile, Sephiroth had almost given in to the compulsion to kiss those smiling lips . . . almost, but he fought it. He would not frighten Cloud like that. What if the blonde thought he was like Matthew? What if such an action brought on thoughts of what Matthew had done to him? What if Cloud thought he was morally capable of rape too?

"Damn him!" He snapped his mouth shut, realizing he had said that aloud.

Cloud's smile vanished in an instant. "Wh . . . what?"

Sephiroth shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing. I'll get the water." He could tell Cloud wasn't convinced by his somber reaction. The blonde just stood and watched him as he filled their canteens with icy liquid, wincing as he bent to do so. Had Cloud understood what he had said? Or worse even, what if Cloud had misunderstood his words for something else, like anger towards him?

**88888888**

As Cloud followed Sephiroth to the cave exit, he couldn't help but let his mind wonder back to the falls. What had Sephiroth said? It had sounded as if he had been cursing Matthew . . . but . . . why? They hadn't even been talking of anything even remotely related to that particular subject. That meant . . . had that been on Sephiroth's mind? Had Sephiroth been worrying over Tseng and Matthew?

And that wound. Cloud had seen the full of it when Sephiroth had bent to gather their water. Had the spiders done that to him? He mentally berated himself. Sephiroth was hurt because of him, and the wound looked, well, he could think of no other word to describe it but nasty. Sephiroth had long since covered it with a black sweater from his pack, but that didn't help Cloud keep his mind off of it. What if it had become infected? Then Sephiroth would get sick. He couldn't let that happen.

He was just brain-storming ways to bring up the subject politely, when, as he stepped outside the cave, all thoughts except for one were swept from his mind.

_He . . . Did he _carry _me up here_?!

He approached the edge and looked down, mouth agape. The incline was so steep. There was no other way he could have gotten up here unconscious. The Hollow's bottom was over one hundred yards below, and he was up here, atop a jagged plymouth jutting from the cliff's face. He turned to Sephiroth.

"You climbed that?" He didn't even try to keep the awe from his wavering voice. He had known Sephiroth was a strong man. One could tell by looking at him, and by the way he fought . . . but . . . Sephiroth had climbed that and somehow towed him along as well . . . and all with that wound?!

"You asked how I found shelter. I said you would find out soon enough, did I not?" Sephiroth was securing a rope around a solid-looking rock formation, presumably in preparation for their descent. Cloud found his eyes wondering to the white-haired man's back. There was no way Sephiroth had been able to tend a gash in such a precarious location.

"You're hurt," he ventured. Sephiroth did not turn to face him, but answered, "The spider, it caught me just before . . . " his voice trailed away, carried by a strong gust of icy wind.

Cloud stepped closer to the kneeling man, who was just finishing up his knot. "Is it . . . painful?"

Sephiroth remained kneeling, and was silent for a moment. "It hurts, but . . . it's nothing I can't deal with."

Cloud approached the taller man, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder. _That's funny . . . Back before I met him, I'd never have imagined going anywhere near another man, much less touching one on purpose_.

"It might get infected you know. I may have lived in the orphanage for most of my life, but I know more than you'd think. If you just let it fester, the scarring will be bad too."

Cloud watched the back of the silver head. Gaia, Sephiroth's hair looked silky. He wanted to touch it, run his fingers through the fluid texture, but he knew Sephiroth would not want him too. Yet again, he found himself wondering why Sephiroth even cared about him. Cloud frowned. How many times had he asked himself that question? How many more times would he ask himself the very same inquiry in days to come?

He was startled as Sephiroth stood, with a grunt of pain, he noted, beneath his hand. The white-haired man's height, when combined with his own shorter stature, produced quite an awkward effect. Cloud's hand slipped from the dark-clad shoulder, and finally came to rest just below the wet wound. Cloud felt blood beneath his fingers though the shredded leather. Pity, he had admired that coat. It made Sephiroth look . . . well, like Sephiroth, powerful, lean, graceful . . . masculine. The coat had only brought the entire ensemble together . . . flowing hair, smooth facial features, defined chest, steel waist, hardened thighs, booted feet.

Cloud blushed. Never before had he thought so much about another's body that his thoughts could practically be woven into a quilt of poetry. He slowly withdrew his hand, fingers stained with red. It shouldn't matter to him why Sephiroth cared. He simply did, end of discussion, but Cloud had been blinded by kindness so many times before, had been fooled by so many that had only pretended to care and later betrayed him . . . used him like a tool. In his heart, he knew Sephiroth was different than those monsters; he cared because . . . what made _anyone_ care for another? Love?

Cloud' s eyes widened and he inhaled too quickly, so fast it hurt. Love? It was possible that Sephiroth could return his feelings?! Cloud forced his breathing to calm. He had never come to this conclusion before when he had asked himself why Sephiroth seemed to care so much for him. Sephiroth had welcomed him into his home, let him eat all he wanted whenever he wanted, payed for his new clothes . . . Sephiroth had even said he would train Cloud in the art of swordplay. The white-haired man kept him from going into mako withdrawal, and had saved his life countless times. Most importantly, Sephiroth had always been there to comfort him. Yes, Cloud realized, this was love . . . but what kind? Sephiroth had held him so tenderly all through the night, had kept him warm like . . .

_. . . like a lover . . ._

Cloud was speechless, afraid to acknowledge this . . . hope? . . . fact? . . . folly? What if he was wrong? What if Sephiroth didn't see him like that?

_What if he does?_

He could feel the surge of unnameable emotions roiling inside him. They were growing too powerful. He was going to break.

_Not now. I can't cry now!_

He managed to hold back his tears . . . all but one. He felt it slide down his face. It stilled on his cheek, leaving its wet trek only half finished. Sometime during his shock, Sephiroth had noticed his distress and turned around, now holding the hand that had been on the older man's back.

"Cloud?"

He found he could not look into those jade eyes, fearing even more tears would come if he did. Instead, he focused on his hand, tangled amongst the two larger more elegant ones. The glistening blood on his fingertips stood out like crimson roses in snow. Then, one long-fingered hand left the other's side. Cloud barely noticed.

Then he started as he realized where that hand had gone . . . to wipe away the stray tear that still had not completed its journey. However, after the tear was gone, the hand stayed. Cloud could feel the warmth like a hot ember against his face . . . a pleasantly hot ember. That's when he finally summoned up the courage to look up . . . into those eyes so full of caring and . . . love. How had he not noticed before? Those eyes made his heart swell with light and made him feel . . . safe.

Sephiroth's hand squeezed his own, and it tightened, squeezing back. They were standing so close, their heat converging between them. Despite the winds, Cloud was no longer cold. The white-haired man's hot breath rolled over him, ghosting across his lips. A fluttering tingle danced into his senses. Yes, this was love. As if in a daze, he found himself closing the few inches of distance between himself and Sephiroth . . . and he was met halfway.

Having never willingly accepted a kiss before, Cloud had no idea what to do. If Sephiroth had wanted a blow job, that would have been something Cloud knew . . . but, then again . . . Sephiroth wasn't like that. He could feel it in the stronger man's gentleness. This was not simple rudimentary lust like Matthew's rough kisses and forceful demands. This was . . . Sephiroth.

The taller man's lips were soft and patient, and Sephiroth didn't even try to force his tongue passed his lips like Matthew had.

_. . . because he doesn't want to scare me . . . He's . . . been hiding his feelings all this time . . . _

Cloud may have been responding before, but now, after realizing Sephiroth's personal sacrifice . . .

He wound his arms tightly around the other man's waist, and pressed their lips together harder, expressing his feelings through his actions. Still unsatisfied, he whimpered in frustration. How could he show Sephiroth how much he cared? It didn't take him long to formulate a solution. He parted his lips, hoping the message would be interpreted. It was . . . and he was in heaven. Between the combined efforts of the older man's tongue caressing his pallet and those long fingers carding through his hair, Cloud's legs gave out. As he fell into Sephiroth, their kiss was broken. Cloud didn't mind. He wasn't a lifeless rock, he needed oxygen.

_. . . and maybe some sedatives . . ._

His heart pounded in his chest, and he wanted another kiss, but he was content for now just to lean against the broad chest, listening to the heartbeat that echoed back so much louder than his own.

"Cloud . . ."

Cloud closed his eyes, enjoying the vibrations of Sephiroth's voice. He might have fallen asleep, but remembered where they were. He pulled back and looked up at Sephiroth's face. That's when the full impact of what they had just done hit him. He blushed furiously. Once again, he found Sephiroth's hand caressing his face.

"Cloud . . . I apologize. I should not have . . . I didn't think."

Cloud's breath hitched. Even now, Sephiroth was holding back for his sake. Blue eyes met green.

"It's okay. I . . . I think I love you." He stilled, stunned that he had dared voice his emotions so easily. The words had just flooded from his mouth. What if this was all a dream? He would hate himself when he woke up. Or what if Sephiroth didn't feel the same way?

. . . But this wasn't a dream. Sephiroth was pulling him back into the close embrace. Strong arms wrapped around him like a second skin and burning lips buried themselves in his hair. This warmth was too real to be a dream, but the words he heard next almost made him rethink his conclusion.

"I think . . . I . . . love you too, Cloud . . . "

**88888888**

Zack lay face-down against a cold stone floor. He could not move his feet, and the thick metal cuffs used to bind his hands behind his back had begun to bite into his flesh hours ago. If he ever got out of this fix, he would find the bastard that had tightened them so much and tear his dick off! . . . If he ever got out of this . . . He sighed, or at least he tried to. Lying like this made breathing difficult. It was all he could do not to suffocate.

Turks! The Turks absolutely had to be the culprits! He'd kill them all! He was normally a very jolly, fun-loving person, but, when he or a friend of his was threatened . . . he may as well have transformed into a wild cat.

_. . . more like a fish in an ice box . . . _he groaned.

He thought back on what had happened. How could he have allowed himself to be captured so easily?! He had been taking a fighting stance, one of the spiders charging at him, when he had felt a familiar sting in the calf of his left leg. He hadn't even heard the gunshot, and only Turks had silenced firearms! After being shot, his world had gone black. He assumed that the bullets used to take him down had contained some form of sedative, most likely derived from the chemical compounds of mako. The drug had to have been. No other type could have knocked out a mako-enhanced SOLDIER so quickly, just one more block of evidence building up against the Turks! Who else would have a drug like that?! The fuckers had even had the mockery to wrap a bandage around his wound afterwards! That meant they wanted him alive . . . right? If he'd had fur, it would definitely have been standing on end right now!

He reigned in his anger. It would do him no good to get pissed while in this predicament. He would only succeed in frustrating himself even more. That was one thing Sephiroth had taught him, always to remain calm, no matter how . . . tied up you were.

Sephiroth . . . and Cloud! What had become of them?! Had they both made it out of that battle in one piece? If so, where were they now? More importantly, when would he be rescued? Even though he hadn't seen his attackers, he just knew they had been Turks, but why did they want him? Was it not Cloud they were after? He knew he would gladly take the blonde's place. After all, he was a righteous martyr and Cloud was his friend, end of discussion.

He tried futilely to shift his position. His muscles ached so badly he almost wished someone, anyone would open the steal-bolted cell door. He wouldn't mind if his visitors were a hoard of crazed, starving zombies. Anything would be better than lying here, limbs losing their feeling, on a hard floor. He had been in this cell for at least twelve hours, most likely more. That depended, where was this cell? There was no doubt in his mind that the Turks had taken him to their supposed safe house.

_Good, now I just have to wait for one of two possible outcomes to occur. One, Sephiroth will bust the door down, his billowy coat of doom flapping in a non-existent wind, or, two, Tseng's peons will grow bored and come in to play a game of let's torture the incredibly sexy prisoner_.

Great . . . now he was losing his mind to the lack of entertainment. He wondered if the Turks would have any objections to his singing a round of Ten Thousand Bottles of Beer on the Wall. He might have actually done so had he thought anyone might hear him.

**88888888**

Sephiroth gritted his teeth as the feeling of cold water washed over his wound. After that kiss, he had been left with a light, airy demeanor. He felt as if he were, indeed, floating on clouds. At the time, he had worried that the blonde had merely been caught up in the moment, as they say. What if Cloud hadn't really wanted that contact?

_. . . But he kissed me back . . . _

Surely Cloud would have said something if he had been afraid . . . and surely, now, the blonde would not be voluntarily attempting to clean the gruesome wound on his back had he been afraid of touching him.

It may have only been a kiss, nothing physically more, but Sephiroth felt as if he had just conquered the world. Suddenly, his face fell. Sure, he felt this way, but how did Cloud feel? What if the blonde didn't love him as much in return?

_. . . but he said he loved me, and he sounded so . . . _

Sephiroth could think of no words to describe the tone in Cloud's voice that had shown his genuine truth in saying such, but he wasn't about to refute his own conclusions. Cloud's voice alone had held in it as much honesty as his own upon saying those words, if not more. Besides, he could not imagine Cloud to be the type of person to allow such intimate contact unless it had meant something.

He could feel the deft hands working to wash away the grime from his back, and focused on them as would a blind man a flicker of light. That is to say, as if they were the single most amazing thing he could fathom. He had kissed Cloud, whom he loved more than he had anyone ever before, and the blonde hadn't run screaming for the hills. Now that he dwelled on the subject, he realized he had never actually known what love felt like before he had met the blonde. He had dated others, yes . . . but the experience had been completely different, and none of them had been anywhere close to what he was looking for. Sure, he loved Zack, but not like this, like a brother. He finally had Cloud, and it wouldn't matter to him if everything else in this day turned out to be a complete failure. That one moment, when their lips had touched sweetly for the first time, would be enough to compensate for it all.

Cloud's hands left his back, bringing the rest of his mind, the minute portion not completely submerged in the knowledge that Cloud had feelings for him as well, out of its dreamlike state. His back felt a lot better. Oddly enough, his mental image consisted of a turtle shell being removed from his shoulders. His skin could breath again.

Cloud appeared before his vision, a slight coy smile upon his face, as if he were unsure of wether it would be welcomed or not. To reassure him, Sephiroth encircled him in his arms and pulled him close. There they stood, just holding each other, but they really should have continued on their way by now. Now, thanks to Cloud, his descent of the ledge would be nowhere near as painful as it would have been had his wound still been festered.

Just as he was about to pull away to voice his thoughts, Cloud backed away first. "We really need to go find Zack." Sephiroth nodded and turned, reluctantly, to pick up his pack. He'd wanted to say more, but he was still unused to saying these things out loud, even if he wanted to. But, then again, now that he had Cloud, why should he waste their time together? Why shouldn't he spend the rest of eternity telling Cloud how he felt? He turned back to find the blonde still standing just as he'd left him. He watched as a slight shiver jolted through the smaller man's body, and strode forwards for one last embrace before they began the climb back down into the Hollow. Planting a tender kiss in the nest of spikes, he whispered into Cloud's ear. "I love you so much." He backed away. "Now, let's go find our friend."

"No," added Cloud. "Let's go find our brother."

**88888888**

The cloaked being watched disgustedly as the two humans on the ledge below him embraced. They had no idea he was here. That's the way things always were. No one ever saw or heard him coming. Oh, but he could see them all right, both clearly defined even though they were over three hundred yards below . . . three hundred and seventeen to be precise. And he could hear their low whispers too, their promises of love. He smirked in loathing . . . there was no such thing as love, only an illusion the body created between two individuals in order to fill its physical needs more readily.

He waited until they began their descent downward before moving fluidly closer. He hid in the shadow of a boulder, catching the humans' scents as they drifted upwards. For a moment, he froze, the ghostly, red haze in his eyes flickered as the color he had been born with fought its way to the surface. He held his breath, biding the internal battle, over which he had no control. Finally, the blue was defeated, engulfed once more by the more dominant red. He had given up trying to fight the red long ago. The blue was no longer his, was no longer a part of himself.

. . . but why had the scent of a human brought on this sudden surge of himself? Usually, the blue was only prompted to show itself when he looked at the picture he had kept in his breast pocket for over ten years. Yes, he had been human once, years ago . . . but no more . . . He was stronger now than any human could ever dream of becoming. Not only stronger, but faster, keener, more efficient. Although he had once been human, he had given up that existence. This life was his new purpose, and it brought with it a greater destiny than the old one ever had. Yes, his new self was so much more than the old. He should not even be thinking of his first existence.

He looked downward, watching as the humans climbed slowly into the Hollow. They were over halfway down now. Even though he had taken in their physical makeup before, he had not quite noticed the blonde one . . . there was something familiar . . . there was something he should remember . . . but what? He hated these feelings, the irking pinprick at the edge of his psyche that he just couldn't connect with. There was a barrier there, and he knew what it was. His new existence was not meant to merge with that of his old . . . yet he couldn't help the onslaught of curiosity. The blue fought back . . . and lost once again. Disappointed, he didn't feel so much like following the humans anymore. Besides, he had business elsewhere. Father had called out to him two nights ago, and he would be punished if he failed to obey.

As if Father had read his thoughts, the figure dropped to his knees, mouth agape in a silent scream. He threw back his head, his hood falling from his pale face, revealing wide, red eyes. Then his entire body wretched forwards in a sick snappish manner. Bony hands spidered themselves into the nape of his neck, where they latched onto the pale, stringy, lifeless hair they found there. Suddenly, he flung himself onto his back, arching into the agony of the call. The hands seemed to have minds of their own as they crawled onto his face, prying desperately at his eyes . . . those starved blood red eyes. As the torture escalated, a snarling outcry of undiluted misery issued from the gaping mouth.

Finally, the pain stopped. Even though the call itself had ended, he had been left the customary feeling of fatigue . . . and urgency. If he did not reach Father before nightfall, he was sure to suffer yet another calling. For the time being, he knew he could do no more than lie on his back, heaving and sweating, until the aftershock, the aches and moans of his muscles, wore off. Father had seemed acceptionally impatient that time. He could not rest long.

Yet, for what seemed like hours, there lay the once-human abomination of . . . had nature done this to him? No. He couldn't recall all of the details. He supposed it was meant to be so. But he did know . . . nature had definitely not done this to him . . . though he knew not what had. The only thing regarding his becoming this way that his mind would allow him to conceive . . . was the color white . . . lots of white . . . and Father.

**88888888**

Cloud accepted Sephiroth's hand and held on tight as the white haired man coaxed him down the last few feet of their steep climb. He felt a great deal safer with both of his feet firmly planted on a horizontal plane rather than a vertical one. _Who wouldn't?_ he wondered.

He watched as Sephiroth lowered himself to the cold stone beneath their feet. "We'll need to rest here for a moment." Cloud knew blood had begun to seep from the older man's shoulder once more, courtesy of the harsh climb . . . and he too was tired, simply because he hadn't eaten in two days. Looking back up at the incline they had just defeated, his head swam without warning. Cloud lowered his gaze, but quickly returned his eyes to the ledge above in a double take. He had thought he'd seen a flash of motion . . . he must really be hungry . . .

He then bent to seat himself next to Sephiroth and huddled close for warmth. He knew his lips must be blue. Closing his eyes, he smiled as he felt the warmth of a muscular arm snake itself around him. He turned to look into Sephiroth's eyes of jade. Instead, he ended up squinting as his vision blurred and a slight pang jolted through his temple. Sephiroth had taken notice.

"Cloud? . . . Cloud?"

Another small pain writhed its way though his head. He gritted his teeth and buried his face in Sephiroth's leather-clad side. This time it felt as if his whole skull was on fire. He had felt this pain before . . . but when? Then he remembered.

_Not again_.

That evening they had been scaling the mountain, back when Zack and the chocobos had still been with them . . . the pain. Cloud didn't recall much of that event. All he could bring to his mind's eye was the pain . . . and how it had begun. He hoped he was wrong. Perhaps these aches were caused by his body's lack of food, or maybe even the cold . . . but what if he was right?

He received an answer to his question all too soon. He was barely aware of Sephiroth's concerned shout as his head exploded with a fiery agony. His ears didn't ring, they screamed, and so did he. He knew his throat would go raw, but he simply could not stop himself. He thrashed like a man in a pit of molten tar. He felt like his skull would split. He opened his eyes. When had he closed them? Even so, it made no difference. His vision had gone a searing white. Suddenly, the pain escalated, if that were even possible. He closed his eyes when the white got brighter, much preferring the darkness behind his lids. His hands were trying their best to claw their way up to his head, as if they could ease the pain by digging it from his flesh, but a strong weight held them back.

He panted with helplessness as another throb of torture pulsed through his entire body. He knew he had to be crying, but he could not feel his own tears on his cheeks, his nerves being overloaded. Finally, the fire seemed to be dispersing to a more tolerable concentration. He had opened his eyes again at some point during his desperate attempts to flee his own body. The white was clearing . . . ever so slowly.

The roaring in his ears had quieted enough to allow him to hear again. He could not yet understand Sephiroth's words, hearing nothing but a jumble of inarticulate slurs, but he could discern the fact that the man seemed frantic. Cloud's breathing slowed as the pain itself disappeared, but it left behind a certain ache that made him feel weak. He was aware of the uncontrollable shaking of his limbs. Sweat trickled down his face . . . or were those tears? . . . or a combination of both?

Sephiroth was whispering soothing words into his ear. The older man eased him into his lap. Cloud shivered as he felt Sephiroth cradle him against his chest, not from the cold, but from the release of the tension his body had built up during its agony. Sephiroth spoke again, the deep vibrations in his chest serving to make Cloud feel safer. This time, he could understand his words.

"Shhh . . . You're alright now. It's over. You're safe. Just rest." Cloud picked up a slight tone of worry in the older man's voice, but he didn't care. He found he was incapable of moving on his own . . . and he was tired. His last thoughts before he allowed himself to drift into sleep were of Zack, and how he had managed to delay their search yet again.

**88888888**

Sephiroth sat motionless, watching Cloud's chest rise and fall with each breath. He had no idea what had just happened, but it had rattled his resolve terribly. True, Cloud had done this once before, but this time had seemed worse . . . and there was something else.

Above Cloud's screams, he had heard others . . . They had sounded more inhuman than anything, rebounding on the great stone walls around them, as if they had come from above . . . yet still they were screams, horrifying torturous screams, akin to the noise of scraping claws across a chalk board . . . unearthly . . . and they had ceased when Cloud's screams stopped.

Sephiroth's heart beat faster now than it ever had in battle. Truth be known, he was afraid . . . afraid for Cloud, and what this might mean. What did it mean? He had no idea. That's why he was so fearful . . . and, to make matters worse, night had begun to fall, and Sephiroth could see no where to seek shelter. He lifted Cloud and made his way toward a boulder and lowered himself to the cold ground beneath it. This would have to do. Suddenly, he thought he heard something. Perhaps . . . the shriek of a mountain lion? . . . He could only hope, but still, he cradled Cloud closer and tightened his grip as the darkness fell. This was going to be a long night.

**88888888**

The smell of leather . . . warm, broken-in leather. Heat . . . surrounding him. The sound of breathing, quick breathing. It was close. It was all around him. He was still tired, and wanted to drift back into his restful slumber, so why had he woken? An interruption . . . yes, a noise . . . but what? Now that his mind had begun to awaken, he could remember the strange, loud mechanical noise that had stirred him to awareness. Cloud forced his eyes to open. The first thing he saw was Sephiroth's face, but his eyes weren't met. In fact, Sephiroth seemed angry, and determined. Cloud opened his mouth to ask what was the matter, but all that he could manage was a dry cough. That drew Sephiroth's attention, but no more than a worried glance. Cloud was confused. What was going on? And why was he so weak?

He got most of his answer when he heard the unmistakable clack of a gun being readied for fire, and a voice that seemed somewhat familiar, yet implacable. He struggled to turn his head in order to view their intruder. Sephiroth's eyes flitted to him again, and the look there confused Cloud greatly. Was Sephiroth afraid? Cloud needed to know what was going on, and now! He forced his head to turn this time. Focusing his sight took a frightening amount of effort. What was wrong with his body?!

There was more than one. Five men in all stood encircling them. The one in the middle . . . the one with the menacing rifle he had heard earlier, looked all too familiar. . . He was a broad, rugged, lion of a man who brandished just as much hair on his face as the top of his head. One of Tseng's men, definitely. Cloud remembered the two stoic guards that had stood at Tseng's back just before the madman had tried to cook him alive. He could probably recall the brute's name if he cared to do so, but the forthright memory his mind did bring to attention was that of the cold unattached manner in which the man had conducted himself upon watching Tseng put a bullet in the leg of his co-worker, whom was, thankfully, nowhere in sight.

"Just give us the target, General, and there will be no need for a skirmish. We're both men of honor, are we not? Surely something can be arranged." The giant man's rough voice reverberated through Cloud's ears like chalk on a black board. Sephiroth wouldn't give him up . . . would he? He felt the powerful arms around him shift to better accommodate his weight, long sinewy arms that Cloud knew were deadly weapons on their own, much less with Masamune. Sephiroth could kill all of these men with those arms . . . if they weren't full of dead weight.

The tension between the formidable General and Tseng's beast of a man was so tangible that Cloud found it difficult to breath . . . or maybe that was just the precursor of a panic attack. They were surrounded, and Sephiroth had yet to speak.

"General Sephiroth Sir . . . I promise you, if you don't hand over the Strife boy, I . . . will . . . fire." The last three words were spoken in a growl. The rifle was raised. Cloud's heart stopped as the other four men raised firearms of their own. He forced himself to look back up at Sephiroth . . . who's emerald green eyes delved deep into his own with a look Cloud had yet to see there. Those eyes scared him now. "S-Sephiroth . . .?"

He finally got a reply . . . "Cloud . . . forgive me . . . " His heart broke. He began to hyperventilate. Did those words mean what he thought they meant? Maybe he had simply misinterpreted them. Then he felt the sway of Sephiroth stepping forwards . . . The arms loosened. He hadn't misunderstood.

" . . . no . . . " He struggled to rise. " . . . no . . . no, NO . . . don't do this . . . please . . . "

This couldn't be happening. Two of the Turks stepped up to meet Sephiroth. Their hands seemed to burn into his flesh as they seized him.

"Seph-Sephiroth! You . . . you can't let them take me, please!"

He stopped struggling when he realized . . . he was wrong. Sephiroth could let them have him, and he had. He went limp. He was no longer afraid, but numb.

_He said . . . he loved me._

Cloud didn't know if he should cry or scream.

"It was nice doing business with you, General." He watched the big man lower his gun. The other two who weren't preoccupied with carrying him followed suit. When had they gagged him? It didn't matter. He didn't need to speak. Cloud tried to seek out Sephiroth, to plead with his eyes, but the man's back was to him, head down . . . sword drawn. He turned slowly, an anger burning in his eyes that would have sparked a fire if physically possible. Suddenly, everything became clear to Cloud. Sephiroth had given him over to the Turks, but he didn't intend to let them keep him. He had acted as if defeated in order to make them put their guns away. No. Cloud knew that was only his wishful thinking . . . or was it?

A blur of leather and steel bolted past him and his captors. Masamune flashed twice with the song of a well-honed blade, and the other two unarmed Turks fell to the ground, one headless, the other writhing in pain and nursing a bloody stump against his chest. Next, Sephiroth trained his fearsome eyes upon the men who held him. The General rushed them. They dropped him painfully to the ground and one made a vain attempt to draw his pistol before the strike landed, the other foolishly tried to flee. Unsurprisingly, they were both too slow, the former not even getting the chance to pull his trigger, the latter tripping in his mad panic. Cloud watched from a morbid angle as Masamune slashed across one man's chest, then rose up in the same second, trailing a stream of blood through the air like a kite before it was thrust into the other man's gut, then, in another fluid strike, cut straight up to his chin, flaying him like a salmon.

Cloud covered his head to protect himself from the collapsing bodies, but there was no need. Sephiroth had crouched down onto his knees with the agility of a panther and scooped him up out of harm's way. He heard the corpse hit the stone with a wet, stomach-churning smack. Breathing heavily, he decided he didn't feel like moving, or speaking for that matter. He buried his face in Sephiroth's neck, ironically noting that the older man hadn't even broken a sweat. He was shaking. He had never seen this side of Sephiroth. Sure, he had watched the other man spar with Zack and fight giant spiders . . . but this . . . That look in his eyes had been a look of sheer rage.

_Rage . . . because they tried to take me . . . _

Cloud heard the sword fall to the ground. A gentle hand moved to the back of his head. "Shhhh . . . It's alright. You didn't really think I'd let them take you from me, did you?" Sephiroth's voice was soft, and protective, the voice Cloud knew the older man reserved only for him. The previous shock of thinking that Sephiroth would surrender him over to the Turks prevented him from answering. He assumed Sephiroth would not even need an answer. He had already forgiven the older man. He wrapped his arms around the leather-clad waist and dug his nails into the man's coat. He was still shaking

"Awwww . . . How sweet . . . sweetly disgusting. You disappoint me General."A mocking drawl cut through Cloud's chest like a dagger.

"You could easily have found yourself a new boy toy, but no . . . It appears you want to make things difficult. Tell me, what's so special about this one that both Tseng and your mighty self want him so much?"

He had almost forgotten the man's presence. Sephiroth's hands left him in a rush for Masamune, but the rifle was already trained on the white-haired man's head. Sephiroth growled in anger and frustration.

"I see you can't be trusted to hold up a bargain, thus, you leave me with no choice."

This man was no better than Tseng. The only thing he lacked was the crazed hunger the Turk leader seemed to exude. . . . but the sneer, and the way he seemed to enjoy abusing power were much the same.

". . . and maybe . . . after you've been locked away in a cell somewhere, maybe I'll see what's so grand about the blonde for myself."

Sephiroth's grip tightened on his sword's hilt. He stood and placed himself in front of Cloud like a wall. "As long as my heart beats, you won't touch him."

It was a threat, yes, but one Cloud knew could not be followed through with, no matter how much Sephiroth wanted it. Cloud noted the gun, aimed and ready to fire. Sephiroth was fast, but not that fast. No man, mako or no, could outrun a barrage of bullets. Cloud glanced about frantically. There had to be something . . . but there was nothing, nothing he could do, nothing Sephiroth could do.

A terrible, triumphant laughter rebounded throughout the Hollow. The echoes making it all the more maniacal. "So this is it . . . The downfall of the Great General Sephiroth."

Cloud was frantic, yet useless, sprawled on the ground as he was. He had his sword, but there was no way he could possibly be fast enough.

The mutilated body of one of the Turks had fallen just behind them, a blood-spattered pistol still gripped in the lifeless hand. Maybe he could get to it unnoticed while the big man was preoccupied with his mocking of Sephiroth. Though, even if he could get the firearm, would it even make a difference? He scooted backwards and lay his body flat. His hand could just reach the gun, loaded and ready. He pried it from the cold fingers with one hand, ignoring the colloidal texture of the blood glittering across the chrome.

He was running out of time!

"Good bye, General."

There was no longer any time to be stealthy now. Cloud whirled himself onto his haunches and fired without taking aim, but the roar of more than one shot sounded throughout the Hollow, rebounding throughout the jagged pathways.

He was too late.

The big man had pulled his trigger as well. He heard Sephiroth cry out by his side and watched in horror as the man he had shared his first true kiss with fell to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought the scream of agony that burst from his heart. He dropped the gun as his fingers wound themselves in his hair. He felt the tears coming, but he didn't care. He had failed.

He heard the Turk let out a unique string of curses. At first, he didn't bother to look. What would a bastard like him have to be angry about? He'd just killed Sephiroth, and that was half of the reason he'd come here today, but curiosity won him out.

Cloud's glazed eyes landed on what had caused the Turk's anger and almost laughed in a sick sort of way at the irony . . . his shot had hit home. The rifle fell to the ground in two pieces and the Turk kicked it in his fury. The man's arms were bleeding profusely . . . there were no hands to speak of.

Hope swelling in his chest, Cloud sought out Sephiroth. Instead of seeing the dead man he had expected, he found a heavily-panting wounded man. Suddenly, he realized his bullet had saved Sephiroth's life. His bullet had deterred the rifle's aim from Sephiroth's head to his shoulder. The wound was large, and bleeding badly. He tried to get to Sephiroth in order to comfort him as the older man had done for him so many times, but he was intercepted.

He raised his gaze and met the dark eyes of the bigger man who stood bleeding half-limbs inches from his face. He looked rather ridiculous, standing there with rivulets of blood dripping from his detestable beard . . . ridiculous, but agitated. Cloud suddenly wished he hadn't dropped the gun. He thought the man might strangle him to death then and there if he'd had any hands to strangle him with. The man was smiling, and looking past him now. . . Cloud turned just in time to see that one of the Turks Sephiroth had taken down had gotten up again, the one with the severed arm.

Seething, the man staggered in his direction. The smaller Turk lifted the gun, holding it broadside in his palm. Cloud watched in horror as the gun's haft was swung towards him. Upon slamming into his head, the impact sent a jolt of white lightening bursting through his skull. His last thought as he blacked out was that this could not be happening.

_So . . . close . . . _

**88888888**

Author Notes:

Wow, I know it took me a long time to post this. No, I still don't have the internet in my home, and I haven't been able to post from school since they bumped up security. I have, however, learned to get passed all the crap they have at the public library . . . just a few extra disks and a couple of proxies . . . and . . . whatever, what counts is I've done it, no? I guess I've become somewhat a novice hacker because of this. I even destroyed our school's password backup disks so that anyone who gets word can change their assigned computer's administrator passwords so that the board can't even log on now, Mwuahahaaa!!!

Anyways, so, how was Cloud's first actual kiss? A little sudden, I know, but it just seemed to fit. To me, writing fiction is like life, no matter what you plan, whatever happens, happens. I had planned to make poor Cloud wait . . . for a long, long time . . . oh well, obviously he couldn't.

Chapter thirteen is next, ironically. Number thirteen just so happens to be the chapter in this fic where everything goes horribly wrong. I don't even know if I want to write it, but it's very important to the overall plot, so I have to. *cries* Hopefully, you won't be waiting quite as long this next time, but, if you are, I apologize and want you all to remember that anything worth while takes time.

And, !!!I promise!!!, I will never give up on this fic, even if it takes my entire last year of high school and all of my college and beyond! (...but I pray it won't...I plan to write more than just this one. *wink*)

This chapter has been updated as of 12-10-08.


	13. Newest Blood

DISCLAIMER: Final Fantasy belongs to Squaresoft and various other interested parties, not me. I'm not making any money from this, and no infringement of copyright is intended. This is a work of fandom, intended as appreciation of the original work.

WARNINGS: Death, Profanity, Otherwise Disturbing Content

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Newest Blood**

Zack had begun to think his captors were going to leave him here, in this wretched freezing cell, until he froze or starved to death. He'd tried to think of ways to escape, but gave up, as he'd decided the door looked far too solid. He had, however, managed to maneuver himself into a comfortable position. No longer lying flat on his stomach, he was able to breathe so much easier. He had also given up on sleep long ago, as, every time he came anywhere close to drifting off, one of his limbs would go achingly numb.

Thus, there he lay in a ruffled heap on the cement floor. He'd begun to think something terrible had happened to Sephiroth and Cloud. What if they were both dead? Then _he _was dead! His anxiety at having no way of knowing what occurred outside these walls had convinced himself by now that they had both been devoured by the spiders up on the ridge, but despite all of the sorrow he felt for his possible loss, he had yet to truly _feel_ the pain. The hope was still there, one mere pebble holding off the emotions behind a dam of resolve that threatened to crumble with each passing minute that he let his thoughts linger on his friends.

He found it so much easier to pretend that they were somehow still alive and focus on his own dilemma instead, but the focus would never come. His mind persisted on wandering back to the outside. If only he had a little more information . . . and maybe a bite to eat . . . and a toilet. His stomach and bladder had been traitorously torturing him for hours. Desperate, he decided to annoy his guards again. He knew there was at least one man standing outside his cell. He had heard him coughing and, at times, pacing.

_I'll bet he's as bored as I am._

"Hey! I hope you have a mop ready out there, 'cus your cell's about to smell like urine if you don't give me a break soon!" He waited . . . no reply, just like his countless other attempts. "Hey! I know you're out there! Coward! Afraid to let a bound man out of his cell long enough to piss! Come on!" He waited again . . . nothing. "Pleeease?" He was whining to himself now, and he knew it . . . or maybe not! Had he just heard voices?

He strained his ears, holding his breath. Yes, there they were again, and more than one. He struggled to make out what they were saying, but the conversation was low and indiscernible. However, his heart leaped at the unmistakable jingle of keys, and it took flight, flapping in his chest like a song bird as he heard the click of a heavy lock. The thick steel bar slid out of place with a metallic clang, and the titan door gave a lazy groan as it peaked open. He couldn't bring himself to care if they had come just to kill him or not. The door was open!

A lanky Turk stepped in, wearing the navy blue uniform that Zack had truly grown to associate with annoyance during the past week. A pistol trained on him for security, and then another man backed inside, hunched over for some reason. As the man advanced farther into the cell, Zack's minuscule bubble of relief burst, and his song bird of a heart spontaneously combusted and its shriveled ashes fell ironically from the sky like charred black confetti.

_. . . oh . . . no . . . _

The Turk was, with some effort, dragging an all too familiar blond by his cuffed hands, obviously uncaring about the sharp metal edges chaffing into the tender flesh of the pale wrists. He let the unconscious Cloud fall roughly to floor.

"Enjoy your company while it lasts." The bastard smirked and both of the slight men turned to leave. The door was heaved shut, the lock clicked, and the bar returned to its imprisoning position as if it had never even budged to begin with.

But Zack didn't care at the moment. Cloud was alive! . . . but the fact that he was here did not bode well at all for either of them. And why was he alone? Where was Sephiroth?

"Cloud? Cloud!?" His young friend was motionless as Zack's eyes lighted on the fresh splash of red marring his temple, and from there to the random spatter of the same stains decorating various areas of his clothing, hinting that previous bloodshed had occurred prior to the blond's capture. Concern rippled up into his chest.

_At least Cloud has an excuse not to reply . . . unlike _someone.

Zack tried in vain to move himself to Cloud's side, in flickering hopes of perhaps waking him up. After several exhausting and unsuccessful attempts, he floundered in exasperation and slammed himself against the concrete a lot harder than he had intended. He grunted in futility and gave up, panting ungracefully.

He supposed, for now, the satisfaction of his panic would have to settle with watching the slow rise and fall of his injured friend's chest. As long as the blond was still breathing, Zack would refrain from hyperventilating. He was _not _having a good day. Where was Sephiroth?

**. . . . . . **

He still had to pee!

**88888888**

He had been struggling against the thick chains around him ever since they been put in place. He had also been struggling against the three sets of hands that had been wrestling to lift his weight, making their cumbersome load even more difficult to bear. Most prominently, he had been struggling to hold on to his consciousness. His treasonous body, however, was making this rather difficult. As every second passed, his precious energy slipped away along with the steady dripping of his wounds, causing the dark haze around his vision to grow thicker.

He could no longer feel the pain in his leg, although he remembered that it had been terrible at first. His body had begun to drift into a state of numbness, threatening to drag his mind down with it, but he refused to give in. He had to . . . the haze strengthened again . . . what was he doing? His mind raged. There was something he had to remember, something vitally important. He fought the darkness with all of the willpower he had.

Up ahead another Turk carried his own load, dragging the limp individual along the ground by the chains of his handcuffs as they neared a small building.

Cloud! Yes, he had to make sure he stayed with Cloud! He could not let the blond out of his sight. He might never see him again.

His love was not moving, having been stricken in the temple with quite some force. Even from here he could see the rivulets of blood trickling through Cloud's spikes and down his face. Anger tried to fight its way into the forefront of his mind, but it was immediately bogged over by his growing weakness. He groaned and chanced a look at his leg, trying to ascertain whether or not the bleeding was likely to slow any time soon.

The mako was not helping. This wound was too great. All that met Sephiroth's eyes was the horror of glistening red, and nothing else. But at least he was still alive. Cloud, his Cloud had saved him and even managed to maim Krall's arms at Gaia knew what cost to himself. Tseng had always treasured his veterans, the Turks that had been around for over ten years at least, and Krall had definitely been in service for at least twenty.

This was sure to send Tseng even further over the edge.

Sephiroth would not let that bastard hurt Cloud again, of that much he was certain, but, even as he thought of his desperate need for the strength to protect the blond, the haziness returned with vengeance. It was like drowning in a forever-shifting sea of black waves, Sephiroth not recovering from the last dousing before his thoughts were submerged in another. It had caught him by surprise this time and he hadn't been prepared for the strength of the darkness that threatened to overpower him. He pictured the brilliant cerulean blue of Cloud's eyes, trying to force some color back into the blackness that had currently consumed his mind.

Sephiroth could feel his wits slipping away with each drop of blood that fled his veins. The blackness began to pull Cloud's image away from him, but as soon as the first was gone he stubbornly replaced it with another.

A gorgeous smile, rare and hesitant. The awed blond lifting his new katana from its case in restrained excitement. Cloud took nothing for granted. He growled in frustration as the haze returned yet again. This was no enemy that he could decapitate with Masamune, neither could he intimidate it. He, Sephiroth, was utterly helpless to fight this foe, which kept growing progressively stronger as he grew weaker. It did not take a seasoned General to realize that his loss would inevitably come eventually.

He blacked out.

**88888888**

Rozz stood behind his superior, ignoring the itch on his temple that had become rather urgent. Normally, he might have chanced a quick scratch while no one was looking, but Tseng had been in a decidedly irritated mood ever since this morning, when he'd learned that the scientist would be arriving a full week early in some sort of sick excitement to commence with even more experiments in the area. The basement had already been prepared in Hojo's advance, having been stocked with all manner of instruments and holding tanks that made the crippled man's nerves lurch in chilling dread.

His brother, Warren, had been one of Hojo's guinea pigs. He'd volunteered under the impression that the experiments were meant only to increase his strength and agility . . . Oh, he was powerful, no doubt . . . but a heavy weight squeezed around Rozz's heart every time he allowed himself to remember that . . . he no longer actually had a brother.

_An empty shell . . . barely even human. A slave . . . forever . . . but he's already gone, isn't he?_

The screams, the seizures, the cold sweat . . . Warren had been one of the first to go insane, held in his older brother's arms. The feel of losing someone he was supposed to protect . . . knowing that there was nothing he could do to ease the agony, to save his little brother from . . . no one knew exactly what Hojo had done to them, aside from turn them into monsters. And there were so many others aside from Warren. Rozz would rather not think about that night, almost ten years ago, unless he absolutely had to.

He abruptly forced his mind onto another subject. Rozz knew Tseng had deployed some of their best men in a rush operation to accomplish what he had come here to do before his command was taken away. As far as Rozz knew, nothing had been heard from the dispatch in hours.

He stole a glance to the leader of the Turks. His boss had been waiting anxiously for news all afternoon, growing more furious with each tick of the white clock situated lonesomely above the back wall. Now, he sat upright in his chair, knuckles white against the maroon leather as strained muscles clenched the arm rests. Rozz was nervous, and he had the right to be. The last time Tseng had worked himself into this mood, his kneecap had been reduced to a mass of gnarled muscle and tendons with a revolver.

**88888888**

_"There were no problems getting him Rozz?" Tseng turned to him with a triumphant grin._

_"No sir." Rozz feared his superior might be angry with his tactics, the manner in which he had retrieved Strife, but hoped that, perhaps, Tseng's pleasure in finally having his quarry in his clutches might assuage that anger._

_"Sephiroth didn't interfere?" Oh no . . . He wanted a detailed briefing, then. He swallowed the building mass in his throat._

_"No sir, I waited until he was out of the apartment." Nerves standing on edge. Let him stop the questioning there._

_"Good, good." A sigh of relief._

_"You left no evidence behind?" SHIT! He could not choose to leave the question unanswered. He could not lie. Tseng would know! He always knew!_

_"Answer my question Rozz." The voice was quiet and threatening, dripping with potential violence._

_"Yes sir, there was blood." He it comes. Cold._

_"Blood. I thought I told you to make it clean." Tseng was shouting now. Then, one of those mood swings that seemed to be becoming more common lately._

_His superior turned from him and crouched in front of Strife's weak form. Rozz did not have to see the glare that he knew would be on Tseng's face to feel Strife's fear. He already had plenty of his own. _

_"Blood . . . How much? Elaborate." This was it._

_"My tranquilizer jammed. I had to disable him physically. Please forgive me sir, I . . . it's not my fault he bled so much." He watched, frozen, as his boss turned on him. That had been the wrong thing to say._

_"Yes, Rozz, it is your fault. You and I both know there are ways to disable a target without leaving so much as a scratch. I knew I couldn't rely on you in Rude's absence. I should have sent the rookie. I bet Reno would have done it right! But no, I chose you, and you fucked up." He flinched at the insult and had no time to react as Tseng pulled a gun on him. _

_Rozz was sure he was dying as agony exploded from his knee. He could not hold back the scream that escaped him, nor the whimpers that followed after he had realized just what had happened._

_He'd known . . . but not this badly . . . shattered trust for good . . ._

**88888888**

Thinking of his bad leg brought the ache to the forefront of his mind. The cold of The Hollow seemed to make the pain even more noticeable than usual. He wondered if it would ever heal completely, or if he might become one of those old men that one saw in the streets hunched over a cane. The injustice of his superior's decision made his blood heat. One small mistake, nothing more, and he had suffered a punishment that had crippled him forn a lifetime.

. . . but no one could leave. Once in, always in. There were no ex-Turks, and Rozz knew why. If anyone ever showed the smallest doubt of his life-long allegiance, their life was suddenly not so long anymore.

Thus, here he was, stuck in a society where he was cursed to stand behind a man he hated and leap at the chance to perform his every bidding or be punished. It hadn't been like this before. The scientist had changed Tseng too, into a man that hardly anyone could like. He inhaled sharply as a pressure budded in his chest. He had been his superior's friend, once.

Now, however, Tseng seemed to have become obsessed with killing Sephiroth and, more prominently, Cloud Strife. Rozz did not know much about his boss's motives, but, one thing he did understand, was that Sephiroth was no going to let them have the boy without a fight. It was like trying to take a cub from a tigress. It just wasn't worth the trouble, no matter what the boy had done.

Rozz explored his memory for images of the young man. He remembered feeling sorry for him as he had hefted his light body out of Sephiroth's kitchen window. The blond's weak state had reminded him of his last few moments with Warren. He had not seemed a threat to the Turks in the least, quite the opposite really. Rozz's soft brown eyes alighted on the back of Tseng's head now.

_So why the obsession?_

He looked up from his polished shoes as there was a commotion from behind the door, shifting his weight to accommodate for the pain in his bad leg as he did so. A young man he did not recognize burst in with a pleased grin on his face, orange hair plastered flat onto his skull by sweat as he delivered his message with a prideful salute.

"Sir, both Strife and Sephiroth have been contained, and both are still alive."

Tseng stood from his chair with a delighted sneer on his face. "Excellent. Have Sephiroth prepared for when the good professor arrives. As for Strife, tell Krall to accomplish his own purposes with the brat if he pleases and then prepare him for the shooting range."

Rozz's eyes widened in nervous horror as Tseng produced his handgun from his belt and fired a loose shot into the ceiling, dust snowed from the damge sight. The last time Strife had been captured, Tseng had surmised that the quickest and most painful way to kill the boy before Sephiroth had arrived on the scene would have been by fire. Now, on the other hand, Sephiroth had been captured too, leaving Tseng with all the time in the world to exact his revenge.

_By giving him to Krall?!_

He had heard many rumors about their senior officer that always made his upper lip curve into a snarl whenever he man entered the room. Krall liked them young, and liked them whenever he pleased. As one of Tseng's favorites, of course, Krall got them young, and he got them whenever he pleased. Rozz also knew that most of the boys were rarely ever seen again.

_You couldn't have thought of a more painful way to dehumanize him before you killed him could you?_

Tseng had definitely changed into a man he did not like.

Rozz combated with himself on whether to voice his protests aloud to his boss, when his thoughts were interrupted by the next sentence that came from the young messenger's mouth.

"Sir, there is also . . . some bad news, I'm afraid."

Tseng strapped the weapon back to his side, paying barely any attention to the young man. He looked up languidly, a wide sneer still on his face. "I have both Strife and Sephiroth. What bad news could possibly dampen this victory?"

"Senior Officer Krall, my Lord, he's . . . in the medical ward. His condition is critical, Sir. They say it's likely that he won't live."

This did catch Tseng's attention, Rozz noted, but not in the way the former news had, not at all.

"What do you mean his death is likely?!" The Turk's face was turning red.

The messenger visibly flinched. "He has lost both of his arms above the elbow, Sir, by the backfire of his own shotgun. I don't think they have been able to staunch the bleeding"

"This is not acceptable!" The dark-haired man's teeth flashed as he swept his arm across his desk in rage, knocking off many important papers along with what Rozz knew to be a very expensive and irreplaceable lamp. The lamp hit the floor with a splitting shatter and an electrical snap as the bulb burst, the documents floating in the air like autumn leaves

The messenger looked frightened and looked as if he wanted nothing more than to leave the room and pretend he had never come, a drastic change from his previous prideful demeanor. Rozz decided to intervene and attempt to calm his former friend before any more antiques were obliterated, or, more specifically, before the young messenger suffered the same fate he had back in the prison when Tseng had ruined his leg.

"Tseng." He stepped forwards to meet the man's growl. Before, in Midgar, he had feared Tseng's wrath, but now, he had become numb to the thought of death. His brother, whose love and dependence had once been his only reason for life, had been stolen from him by science. His youth had been stolen from him the moment the leader of the Turks had pulled the trigger. "See reason. The lad's had nothing to do with this. He is only following orders, presuming his superiors were not up to the task of bringing you this news themselves. Dismiss him to go about his business."

Tseng reeled on him and raised his hand, as if preparing to strike, but paused, hand wavering in the air. The Turk exhaled and brought the hand down slowly instead, leaving it to rest on Rozz's shoulder.

"You're right, Rozz. This isn't the lad's fault at all." He turned to the boy and waved him off with a hand. "Leave us."

It seemed as though the redhead could not exit the room quickly enough as he backpedaled out the door, leaving Rozz with a grateful communication that passed between their eyes.

When the boy was gone, Tseng returned his attention to Rozz, patting down his blue suit that had become ruffled in his angry outburst.

"Indeed, you are right. This is no one's fault but Sephiroth's."

This had not been the result that Rozz had quite wanted from his intervention.

"I sent Krall and his best to bring me back the Strife boy, and he returns an amputee. You see, Rozz? Sephiroth has taken his affection for the little murderer to the point of killing off other ShinRa employees in order to shelter him from his just dues."

Rozz had nothing to say to his superior's unbalanced statement. Murderer? Surely General Sephiroth knew the situation, even if Rozz himself did not. Although he had only met the man twice, he had seemed rather reasonable. Hell, he must have been to acquire such an intimidating rank. If Sephiroth had deemed Strife innocent, then, perhaps, he was correct.

. . . but he did not dare to say so.

Tseng continued. " The boy will die today. Sephiroth can't stop his death this time, neither can he cut my time short, thus I can choose any method I so see fit."

Rozz did not fail to catch the maniacal gleam in the man's eyes.

_What has Hojo done to you?_

Rozz had known that Tseng had become unstable, but to take it to this level? To kill someone so young without giving him a chance to so much as plead his own case? His face darkened. The Turks might not have been established on the foundations of being a just and noble organization . . .

_. . . but surely we still have some honor left in our miserable ranks._

He watched Tseng pace the study, hands held neatly behind his back, no doubt trying to fabricate a new agonizing way in which he could take Strife's life.

"Sir?"

Tseng paused and grumbled in irritation, as if he had truly been concentrating on his morbid train of thoughts.

"You said you would pay our dear friend Krall a visit?" Rozz played up the pleasantries, hoping to make the visit to the medical ward seem more personally appealing to the deranged man. "I am positive it would lift Krall's spirits to know that his services are still appreciated, especially after accomplishing today's mission at a great personal sacrifice."

His superior's eyes lit up with recognition as if he had forgotten Krall completely.

_He's progressively getting worse_, Rozz mused to himself. Would Hojo not stop this madness until there were no sane men left on the Planet? Or maybe he couldn't stop it. Maybe his experiments had gotten out of hand. No. The last time he had seen one of them, it had bent totally to his will, even going so far as to shower him with titles such as Lord and, most disturbing to Rozz, Father. Hojo dominated them absolutely.

Thinking of the horrors that occurred in the scientist's labs made him feel sick. The chilling part was that he knew for a fact that his knowledge of the underground labs barely sampled the surface. He didn't know where they had come from, how they were made. If their devotion had not disgusted him so, he realized, me might even feel sorry for them.

He had been waiting for Tseng to speak. Finally, after he had allowed his mind to dwell on darker matters for too long, his superior moved to his cherry-wood desk and removed a single metal object that Rozz knew to be the master key to the entirety of the compound and held it out for him to take.

Rozz hesitated. Tseng's current madness lead him to suspect more sinister motives. "And what would you have me do with this, Sir?" He held out his hand and felt the cold of the metal drop into his palm.

"I will go see Krall. While I am away, you, Rozz, will retrieve Strife from his cell, number eighteen if I'm not mistaken, and tow him down to the lab area. He may not be the type Hojo usually goes for, but surely our master of pain can find some useful purpose for him . . . spare parts, perhaps."

Rozz took a quick intake of breath. The lab. The last place he had been with his sane brother . . . the last place he ever wanted to go himself, much less take someone else, knowing the horrors that would occur due to the action. This was even worse than Tseng's last scheme. He must voice his objections this time. "But, Sir, I don't think . . . "

"No, it's quite alright. I know I won't take as much pleasure from it if I don't execute it myself, but, I suppose, if I get to watch the boy tortured into madness instead, then it might be up to my standards."

Rozz felt like retching as Tseng's words pieced together a mental image in his brain, Hojo's needles, sterile steel operating tables and the unbendable rods meant to bind any unfortunate victim until Hojo had finished playing with them, or until death. Although, he knew, sometimes even the ceased beating of a heart failed so save them from the horror.

_He's still so young. What he did is nothing in comparison to that, surely._

Then, it suddenly dawned on him that he literally had the key to prevent this atrocity. At least one soul could be salvaged. He started when the voice of his boss interrupted his track of thought.

"Well then, Rozz, I suppose I shall meet up with you in the lab. When you get him down there, I'm sure you're intelligent enough to find a place for him. The professor is due around 1400, so we shouldn't have to wait long."

_We?_

Did Tseng honestly expect him to watch too? Had he forgotten how much Rozz loathed the laboratory? Had he forgotten . . . why?

There would be no watching. There would be no torture. He was not going to let this happen. He would set Strife free and then he, too, would leave soon after.

_Hojo is tearing this organization apart. Or, rather, he's knocking it down one column at a time. Eventually the whole structure will fall._

He and Warren had joined the Turks eleven years ago. He, at the age of twenty-six. his brother only seventeen. At that time, it might actually have passed as a respectable way to earn a salary, but it slowly changed from bodyguard work, to assassinations in Wutai War One. Then, from that to darker dealings in the economy and ShinRa's Science Department. He had realized what was going on, but he had made himself a career and was reluctant to back out. Now things had grown far too crooked.

Rozz nodded his superior out the west door. Once he was alone, he heaved a shaky sigh and allowed his now-throbbing leg a rest. He would not show his weakness in front of his peers. He took a few moments to work the growing tension out of his upper thigh before setting off out of the exit opposite to the one his boss had taken.

He fingered the thin key nervously in his pocket, wishing he had more time to formulate a more sensible plan. He would most likely be found, no matter where he went into hiding, and then silenced.

_. . . but this is what Warren would want._

Honor did indeed mean a lot to Rozz. His father had always told him that, if a man had no honor, he could truly have nothing. And letting a sixteen-year-old boy be subjected to agonizing experiments until he went mad or died was not only dishonorable, but also as immoral as one could get. No more.

_. . . I pray this works._

With scenarios on how to get both he and Strife out of this in one piece, Rozz precariously limped his way to the cells. He knew this would definitely be considered treason . . .

_. . . but to what loyalty I wonder?_

**88888888**

Cold.

He felt cold . . . and . . . heavy.

. . . yet, there was something . . .

Sephiroth opened his eyes and growled when an blinding white light stabbed into his irises like hot needles. He closed them, of course, to spare himself the unnecessary pain. Or was it necessary for him to fight it and open his eyes? He thought on such a simple decision for what he knew was longer than he should have. No . . . He wouldn't bother. His lids felt just as heavy as the rest of his body. A warm, numbing haze had settled over his arms and legs.

. . . but his chest was cold . . . like a chunk of ice had lodged itself where his heart should have been and deemed Sephiroth's chest its new home.

He could feel his own slow pulse inside himself . . . The rhythm created a tingling feeling throughout his fingers now. For the time being, Sephiroth found himself content just to lie here in this place of comfortable heat. He felt as if he could lie here forever.

Speaking of which . . . where, exactly, was 'here'?

_"No! You can't . . ."_

_". . . Can't stay here!" _

_"You must return . . ." _

_"Go back!"_

What? He was hearing voices now? No. He was dreaming.

_Funny . . . Doesn't feel like I'm sleeping._

_"Not a dream!"_

_"Real . . . We are real."_

_"Hurry! Open your eyes."_

_"No. Hear us, but you cannot stay . . ."_

_I do hear you! Where am I? _He was shouting amongst the mantra of voices, feeling claustrophobic as so many seemed to be within the same place.

So many voices . . . Some shouting desperately . . . Others, calm and strong . . . They couldn't seem to agree on anything rather than the fact that he had to go away from this place.

_How do I leave?_

_"Open your eyes . . . but don't go just yet."_

_"Please. Listen! You must!"_

_Who are you?_

_"We are . . . "_

_"We know the truth."_

_"You have to help us! And save the rest!"_

_"It's almost too late . . . for some."_

The last and more solemn voice did not seem to be speaking to him this time.

_"He can still help those few who are left!"_

_"He can free us . . . "_

_"He can prevent others from suffering this fate."_

These voices were beginning to give Sephiroth an annoyed headache. If they were in such a hurry, then they should all agree on something and let him go. As if they could hear his thoughts, the wiser voice spoke.

_"Very well. Let me explain."_

_I'm listening._

_"The souls of many are trapped here . . . For as long as She remains here, in the lifestream . . . No one of us can rest."_

_She? _Sephiroth wondered if this information were credible or if perhaps he was going insane.

_"The Calamity. She has help, back in . . . your world. As long as he lives, he won't stop . . . giving Her what She wants."_

_What does she want?_

_"The Planet . . . Slaves . . . Cloud . . . and all else that can be taken from you."_

Sephiroth had to stop himself from flinging open his eyes. Cloud! Tseng! Tseng had Cloud!

_"Your love is safe . . . for now."_

_Who are you? How do you know Cloud is safe?_

How did they know about his love for Cloud?

_"I told you . . . We are trapped. We are what remains of Her slaves . . . What stays behind after she has destroyed our bodies' minds beyond the habitation of our souls. We could not stay in our bodies. We cannot pass into the lifestream . . . We must wait here, just outside the gates . . . until She is gone. The Planet will not let us in. Her presence is . . . still inside us. We can see both worlds from here. I can see your body. You are recovering. Cloud . . . He is with Zack. Safe, for now."_

_Why does she want Cloud?_

_"She wants them all. She will complete her collection if She is not destroyed."_

_Why does she want Cloud?! He is a human being, not something to be . . . collected!_

Again, Sephiroth had begun to lose patience. He was getting angry, and worried.

_"She wants everyone who . . . has the blood of those who originally walked the Planet. She wants you, too . . ."_

_. . . originally walked . . . ? Me?_

_"The Ancients . . . are not completely gone . . . However, our lineage is draining. Slowly . . . she is destroying our legacy. She is winning. Soon, the Planet will have nothing left to combat Her with."_

What? Sephiroth had begun to wonder if he were dreaming again. The voice was getting more difficult to understand. The numb warming sensation was fading. He could feel his hands now.

_How? How do I help you? How do I keep Cloud away from her?_

_"The answer . . . "_

More voices were breaking into this calm abyss from what Sephiroth assumed to be the real world.

_The answer?! Quickly!_

_"The answer . . . lies . . . within the . . . "_

_What? Within what?!_

Sephiroth was struggling now to hold on to this world. He thought he could feel the strong voice fighting to reach out to him. Stroking his very core with warmth.

_"The answer lies within the newest blood of the last generation!"_

Sephiroth did not understand.

_Last generation?_

_"The youngest of what is left of our posterity."_

Sephiroth felt the strange sense of vertigo that accompanied the transition from that warm world to the next. He was slipping!

"No. No, don't go yet!"

His eyes flew open and he was immediately met with a number of confused stares. He counted six. Six very young men. Each and every one of them dressed completely in navy blue.

He shot up instantly . . . and groaned as the movement caused muscles in his injured leg to contract.

_What just happened to me? The Calamity? The newest blood? Youngest of their posterity? Those who originally walked the planet?_ He had heard of the Ancients. The guardians of the Planet back when the darker side of mankind had yet to be born. They were said to have had great powers. According to the voices he had just heard, however, they were not completely extinct. Apparantly they had not thought themselves superior to humans quite so much as was thought.

He didn't know if that had been real or not. Neither did he have time to worry on the subject of his . . . out of body experience?. . . for long. Tseng had Cloud. How long had he been unconscious?

Sephiroth glanced frantically around the room. No clock. White. Everything was pure, unblemished white. It was all too familiar. He gritted his teeth to fight off the childhood memories. He was back in a lab once again. The only thing he had ever truly feared.

_Except losing Zack . . . or Cloud._

Dammit! He was a grown man now . . . yet he still could not make himself get over those old feelings of not being in control of his own life, not being able to move. Sephiroth knew he could move this time. He shifted his arms and legs just to prove the point to himself. He was not bound. The only security that kept him in place was the group of blue-suited Turk gunmen standing around him. There were more than six, as he had counted before.

_Six or sixteen. I could kill them all if I had Masamune._

That was the only true safety measure these poor troops had been given. Sephiroth could take out a few with his hands . . . but not before at least one of them got off an accurate shot. Turks were well known for their marksmanship.

He sat up slowly and noticed that his coat had been removed in order for someone to gain access to the bloody mess that had been his leg. What was left of his combat pants still clung to him, his drying sweat having become an adhesive. There was a clean bandage there too, but Sephiroth knew that, once the bleeding had been stopped, the mako in his body had most likely finished the job as soon as it was given free reign. There was still an uncomfortable pang residing within the thick muscle.

His eyes roamed over the guards, who all seemed as nervous as he had known they would be before he had even acknowledged their appearance.

"Why am I here?" Perhaps the question he should have asked was _Why aren't I dead yet?_

The youths all flitted their eyes to one another, praying that they would not be elected as the speaker for their group. Some backed farther away as if to hide. Sephiroth almost groaned at the disorganization of it all. Instead, he growled and stood up quickly, ignoring the slight ache in his thigh.

"What? Is there no leader among you?"

Some visibly cringed, others had brought their guns up quickly. Sephiroth continued to ignore the weapons, best not to show that the abundance of assault rifles made him uneasy.

He clenched his fists impatiently, wanting to get out of the cold sterile lab as soon as possible. The next words that came out of his mouth were biting, meant to further intimidate. "I don't care who answers the fucking question, but, I assure you all, if none of you has the balls to speak then I'll pick one of you myself and wring it out of you whilst you watch your comrades' blood stain the floor!" Sephiroth had never been more thankful for his ability to paint vivid scenes of death with his tongue. A short brunette standing near the front lowered his weapon a fraction and opened his mouth as if in preparation to speak. Sephiroth waited, quirking an eyebrow expectantly. The young man faltered and closed his mouth again.

_I don't have time for this! Cloud could be dying! _He remembered now that the blond had been hurt and bleeding. Agitated, he stepped forward with the feigned intent of doing just as he had threatened. There was a shuffle of guns being raised and a terrified whimper from the brunette, but Sephiroth didn't care. He was headed straight for the door, not the man's throat. Not a single shot was fired, and Sephiroth had begun to realize that fact was strange when the door that he was so near to escaping from opened to admit the one man that he had ever feared in his life.

**88888888**

One would have thought that by now Cloud would be used to waking up with a headache. He groaned. This one, he thought, had to be the worst he had ever been graced with. He opened his eyes to near darkness. He was on his side, lying on something harshly cold and solid. Feeling resigned that he would not like what he might find when he sat up, given his current state of pain which hinted that he hadn't been in a pleasant place or situation when he'd fallen unconscious, Cloud rolled with difficulty onto his stomach, noticing the biting chains around his wrists. Blood seeped from fresh lacerations against the veins visible beneath his pale skin. He hoped the lines did not go too deeply. Cloud's body was stiff and every movement caused a wave of pressure to pulse through his skull. He placed his bound hands beneath himself and pushed up onto his knees.

"Spike? You okay?"

The masculine voice that traveled from behind him made him scramble to face the master. He had moved on instinct, but the pet name that was used had brought an image to mind of disheveled brown hair, glowing eyes, and a smile that was rarely displaced. His heart lept with hope.

"Zack!" It had been so long since he had seen the man and thought him alive without any doubt. He was so elated that he momentarily forgot his aching joints and head and threw himself at his friend. "I'm so glad you're alive!"

Zack chuckled lightly. "Me too, Spike. Me too. I thought maybe you'd been eaten."

Cloud's joy at finding Zack intact was dampened when he noticed the heavy chains around the brunette's wrists as well. He looked down at both pairs of shackles with disdain, wanting to embrace the friend that he had missed so. That's when he truly remembered where he was and how he had gotten here. The Turks had captured Sephiroth and him, and apparently Zack too. Although, he noted, Zack seemed to have been given a more gentle treatment, despite being chained in a cell.

He remembered the blood, Sephiroth's blood flowing freely from the various gunshot wounds he had taken under Krall's firearm. He just knew that no one could take a wound like that and be alright. The sudden rush of emotions that assaulted his chest spilled out in a sudden ragged sob. He put his head between his elbows, barely aware of Zack's concerned inquiries.

"Spike? Cloud, what's wrong?" The SOLDIER wriggled closer to him, and Cloud knew Zack would be holding him right now if he were able to. Cloud took a deep shaky breath.

"Sephiroth's been shot!" He felt Zack tense beside him.

_It's not alright, then. Not if Zack is worried too._

"How bad was it?" Zack prodded gently.

Cloud didn't want to say it aloud. Giving Sephiroth's plight a voice only made it all the more real, and, therefore, all the more serious . . . painful to accept, but he knew he had to. Zack had been locked up in this cell for days. He needed to be told.

"A shotgun . . . to the upper leg." He swallowed a sob. "Oh, Zack! There was so much blood! I don't even know if he's here or not. I was hit in the back of the head and I blacked out!" He awkwardly wiped his tears on his sleeve and made a valiant attempt to reign in his panic and anguish. Besides, his head had protested strongly to each wave of tears.

"Hey, Kid. Seph's strong. I'm sure a hit to the leg won't be fatal. He's a tough one and he wouldn't let something like that take him out. I promise you that, Spike." The brunette leaned into him. "I know he cares about you. If anything, he'll hang on just to make sure you're safe."

It then became apparent to Cloud that Zack had no idea concerning the events that had taken place between the white-haired man and himself. Zack was trying to console him even though Cloud's hurt went deeper than a simple caring relationship could entail. He loved Sephiroth. His pain was far greater than the brunette could gauge. His pain was that of someone in love.

"Zack, I . . . a lot happened while you were gone."

"I know, Spike. You gonna tell me how you and Sephiroth got away from those big-ass spiders?"

His good-natured friend wasn't catching on.

"No, I . . . I mean . . . a lot has happened . . . between us." He looked up to see Zack quirk an eyebrow.

"Us? You and me? What? Spike, I like you and all . . . but . . ."

Cloud's expression was one of patient annoyance. "No, Zack. Not you and me. Some things have happened between me and Sephiroth."

Some of the short-lived tension eased from the brunette's shoulders and Cloud would have smiled at the comedy of his friend's previous confusion if not for the darkness currently hovering over their situation.

A sudden devilish grin broke out on the restrained man's features. "Good things, I hope." He nudged Cloud in a teasing way while working his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, causing the blond to blush eminently.

"Zack!"

"What?!" His friend feigned innocence. After a second of silence, things went serious again. "As quiet as you usually are, Kid, I'm surprised that you even told me. Thanks. It means more than you know." He shrugged. "After all, I knew the two of you would end up closer than friends anyways. It was obvious to the third party."

This shocked the blond a little. "R-really?"

"Mmm hmmm."

Cloud had no reply to this, thinking that it must have been true. He thought back on how Sephiroth would look at him sometimes, as if he would do anything in the world for him.

_And I never understood why until . . . _

That kiss up on the windy ridge. He hadn't even felt the cold wind because of the older man's warmth. He had temporarily forgotten his fears completely because of the man's gentleness.

_I think I love you._

_I . . . think I love you too . . . Cloud._

His heart lurched and he almost started crying again. He breathed a shaky breath and he leaned himself fully against Zack, needing the warmth and comfort. They sat like that for a while, Zack humming to him quietly until Cloud's mind wandered elsewhere.

"Zack?"

"Hmm?"

"How long do you think we'll be in here?"

The brunette sighed heavily. "I've been in here for two days, I think, and the only time they've opened the door was drag you in. Taking that neglect into consideration . . . my answer wouldn't be optimistic."

Cloud digested this forebodingly. "Do you think Sephiroth's in a cell like this, if he's here?"

Zack glared at the heavy iron door. "I hope not. I don't think even he could break out of one these bitches."

They both went into another spell of silence, their thoughts descending into hopelessness as they further dwelled on their apparent condemnation. Cloud was considering the actions of lying his head on Zack's thigh and attempting a nap to ease his headache when the brunette sat up with interest.

"What is it?" Cloud inquired.

"Footsteps! I can hear footsteps!"

Cloud strained his ears, holding his breath. Yes, he could hear them too, now, as they grew slowly louder. The rhythm was a bit off, however. Perhaps the owner of the stride was limping?

_Sephiroth!?_

Sephiroth had been wounded in the leg. He could be limping, right? Hope welled up in his chest.

Ignoring the protests that his headache was sure to make at the sudden change in altitude, Cloud excitedly leaped to his feet. A spell of vertigo fell over him, but he only stumbled a little and shook it off, too preoccupied with the new sounds coming from beyond the door. A metallic jangling reached both of their ears. He turned to Zack and offered the man a hand, seeing as his feet were tied together. Zack struggled to stand, but between both Cloud and the brace of the wall behind him, he eventually managed.

The key had been inserted into the deadbolt, and it turned with a sturdy click. Cloud's heart leapt with joy as the steel bar was slid out of place and the door finally began to swing inward.

Cloud's heart fell back into a state of dread as a tanned hand and a polished dress shoe made themselves visible. That was not Sephiroth's boot, and that was definitely not his beloved's pale skin. His hands dropped along with the corners of his mouth. When the door opened fully to reveal a raven-haired man in a blue suit, Cloud shook his head in denial and backed behind Zack.

A Turk.

"No . . . " Cloud felt as if he might cry and it was apparent through his shaky defeated voice.

**88888888**

Zack growled low in his throat, clenching his fists. With the efficiency of someone sizing up a potential opponent, he quickly took in every detail of the man's appearance. The Turk was in his mid-thirties, Zack estimated, with short-cropped black hair, light almond skin, and piercing blue eyes that spoke of a strong will. Most importantly to Zack at the moment however, was that the man seemed to be unarmed at first glance.

_. . . At first glance._

Cloud was behind him now, head lowered in obvious disappointment that Zack unquestioningly understood. He had thought than perhaps Sephiroth had come after all. Taking in the blond, he firmly placed himself between the Turk and his friend, although he had no idea what protection he could provide, bound as he was.

"If you came here to take him . . ."

The man in front of them held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I mean no harm, I swear on my dead brother's soul."

This set Zack back a bit. He considered thinking it over, but didn't have the patience or the initiative at the moment.

"Do I look like I just fell out of a chocobo's ass this morning? You're one of them! You're going to take Cloud to that son of a bitch, Tseng, so he can kill him!"

The man's hands were still up. "No, you're wrong. You don't understand. Please, let me explain."

Zack grimaced and backed himself up so that his back rested against Cloud. He didn't know what good the gesture would do. Perhaps his only means of making sure that the blond wasn't swiped from behind him. He glared calculatingly at the Turk.

"Fine, explain yourself then."

The man heaved a sigh of relief and lowered his hands. He stuck his head back outside into the corridor and looked down both directions, as if checking to see if they were still alone. He then proceeded to step further inside the cell, still holding the door open in case it might lock.

"My name is Rozz."

Zack felt Cloud tense behind him. He hesitantly turned his attention from the Turk to and gave Cloud a concerned look.

"Zack . . . He's the man who took me from Sephiroth's apartment," he whispered.

Zack's glare turned to fire. "You mean us no harm, do you?"

Rozz pinched the bridge of his nose. "I will admit that my past is a shameful one . . . "

"I'll say!" Zack interrupted.

Patiently, the man continued on. " . . .and I do regret what I did, greatly. When I followed Tseng's orders that day I had no idea for what purpose he was aiming." He leaned to the side for a better view of Cloud. "Strife. I apologize greatly for the suffering my actions led to. That is one of several reasons I am here negotiating against my superior's orders rather than escorting you downstairs as I was told."

Zack was losing patience with this man. "You mean you're risking death simply because you're on a guilt trip?"

Rozz finally seemed to show a break in his will and sneered slightly. "Do not make me change my mind!" He reached up a hand to rub his eyes, which were underlined by dark circles, making Zack wonder just how much stress the Turk was under. Not that he cared. Finally, the raven-haired man lowered his hand and hummed in the back of his throat, contemplating something. At last, he spoke, "No. I can't go back to the way things have become. I am not here simply because of my guilt. After all, I have lived with my actions for years. There's no use in stopping now." He looked up into Zack's eyes, a pain so visible there Zack couldn't stop the shiver that ghosted down the nape of his neck. "Tseng . . . has been getting worse."

Zack had to bite his bottom lip to stop a rude comment. He was well aware of Cloud's warmth shifting from behind him to stand by his side.

Rozz pressed onward. "At first the experiments were only on lower-ranked grunts and guards . . . "

"Ex-Experiments?" Cloud intoned from his side.

"Ah, yes." The man nodded glumly. "I suppose I should have started there to begin with." He took one quick glance between the two of them. "Years ago . . . I'd say it's been about thirty, or so I've heard, one of ShinRa's scientists was on an expedition in southern Wutai, during the first war. I am not sure what exactly occurred down there. The discovery was well-hidden, top secret. It was some creature of an alien sort, I believe. They knew it possessed a great power, thus they deigned to bring it back with them." He shrugged. "I'm no historian, but I do know that it must have been deemed too dangerous for experimentation by ShinRa authorities. It was ordered to be destroyed, and, until recent years, everyone thought it had been."

Zack felt Cloud slide down to the ground next to him. It crossed the brunette's mind to do the same, but, remembering his bonds, he decided it would be too much trouble to bother.

"So . . . this thing," Zack questioned, "if it was deemed dangerous . . . "

"I'm getting there," Rozz grumbled. Zack almost laughed at the man's indignance from having the flow of his story impeded.

"Anyways. No one suspected that the calamity had not been destroyed as ordered. However, during my later years as a Turk . . . around five or six year ago . . . Tseng began to offer promotions to anyone who would grant the science department their consent to be experimented on, using cells extracted from the discovery itself. It took a while before the idea became popular, but after seeing the increase in strength and abilities that the experimenting gifted to those foolish enough to try it first, it actually became a popular practice amongst the Turks. I, personally, was suspicious as to why it hadn't spread to any other divisions, such as SOLDIER. My brother on the other hand told me I was being paranoid, that I should make the best of a good thing myself. We got into an argument over it, I remember. Even after I had tried hard to dissuade him, he signed up that very day."

Zack felt a horrible sense of foreboding when Rozz's speaking came to a quiet halt. He watched as the man seemed to be struggling with his emotions. In an attempt to give the him some privacy, the brunette turned to Cloud.

"You okay down there, Spiky?"

Rozz continued as the blond was nodding, and both of them turned their attention back to him.

"After a couple of months, though . . . after most had simply begun to accept the experimentation as a regular means of improving one's body . . ." The man swallowed and avoided Zack's gaze. When he spoke next, his voice was thick with dark emotion. "Everyone reacted differently. Some went into comas. Others were lucky enough to die . . . The worst ones . . . They went insane, eventually. One thing they all had in common though was the pain. My brother Warren's started out as a splitting headache. The headaches progressed to the point where I would come home and find him screaming on the floor. They even caused him nosebleeds some times . . . and his eyes would glow red." A lone tear slipped down the Rozz's cheek. "After a week or so, Warren didn't even recognize me anymore. He . . . he tried to kill me, even. And his eyes didn't even glow anymore. They were just . . . dead . . . and the color of blood."

Rozz stopped speaking and Zack was about to break the awkward silence by clearing his throat when Cloud spoke from his side. "Did . . . Warren die?" The blond's tone was cautious, as if he were afraid of probing too deeply into a subject that obviously caused the older man no end of regret and pain.

Rozz looked up at Cloud and seemed to deliberate his response within the confines of his own head a long time before answering. "No. Not the last time I checked. He was still alive last October. Or . . . as alive as he'll ever be again. You have to understand, Strife . . . He is no longer truly my brother. His body lives, but his mind is gone. Warren is gone, just like all the others that bastard injects with his volatile mixtures."

The raven-haired Turk paused and appraised them both, as if to be sure his explanation had been accepted. "That's why I'm doing this. This madness has to end before it spreads further. Tseng accepted the injection months ago. He has lasted longer than most, but the changes are there. I'm doing this because I don't want to see another young man turned into a monster by Hojo."

Zack's head snapped up in a frenzy. "HOJO!?!"

**88888888**

_HOJO?! No! NO! It can't be! He's dead! He's dead! I'll kill him! He's dead!_

Sephiroth was stricken by a cold wave of nausea at the sight of the man smirking at him from the threshold of the disgustingly white door.

_The threshold of HELL!_

Not again! Never again! Sephiroth's eyes darted to the young guards around him. He would kill them all before he relented to any of their demands where the greasy bastard was concerned. He would kill them all. Then, perhaps, he would strap his sorry excuse of a father to the cold hard table and leave him to rot.

_It's not enough. Not compared to what he did to me!_

Sephiroth had sworn he was over his childhood. He was over the experiments. He was a man now. He had been recovering from everything, even been able to go to a few doctors without breaking out into cold sweats. He had gotten over his greatest fear . . . but the man was standing in front of him now and it took every fiber of will in his body not run in the opposite direction. He knew he was strong now; strong enough to break the machines, even, if he tried. He could crush the bastard's skull if he wanted.

. . . And he did want to. His fingers twitched in anticipation at his sides as he stood half naked within the circle of guards. Nothing covered his upper body aside from the shoulder straps cris-crossing his chest. When had his armor been removed?

More importantly, why wasn't the bastard speaking? From what Sephiroth remembered, he had never been this quiet. If he wasn't ordering some sort of torture or displaying his morbid sadism by grinning that sick smirk of his and encouraging a victim's screams, he was ofttimes muttering disturbing mantras to himself in that unnaturally silky drawl of his. Why was he standing there now in complete silence?

_He's doing it to unnerve me. _Sephiroth clenched his fists until blood seeped from his palms. He was glaring icily at the scientist, who was wearing the same white floor-length lab jacket that Sephiroth remembered from all of his torture sessions as a child.

_I had all but forgotten those . . . I was healing. _He was frustrated, and the sick man's silence only made it worse. Sephiroth watched anxiously as Hojo's eyes raked up and down his body. When the man finally did open his mouth, Sephiroth grimaced.

"Hmmm . . . Don't be so tense, Sephiroth. I'm only admiring my greatest creation in its prime. And, yes, you're more perfect than even I imagined you would be. Yeesss." Lank strands of slate-colored hair escaped from the tie at the back of Hojo's head and slipped into the scientist's eyes as he hunched forwards and took another step into the bright lab. Sephiroth instinctively followed suit and moved back, only to jump slightly when his exposed back came into contact with the cold table behind him. He had never wanted Masamune in his hands so badly in his life.

As Hojo entered the room completely, another man slipped in behind him, but Sephiroth had eyes only for the former. He paid the latter not so much a calculating glance. Every rifle in the room followed his movements as he side-stepped the table and continued backward. He was cornered now.

"Perhaps . . . " Hojo continued, "it's time for a check up. After all, it's been, how long? Too long. Have a seat on the table." The scientist's wide toothy smile spoke only of the same insanity that Sephiroth still remembered from so long ago.

_The smile . . . That smile always meant the same thing . . . _He would never be able to completely erase it from his mind. The white-haired man's breathing sped up as visions of a smaller more fragile Sephiroth flashed through his head. He was a child again. He was being backed into a corner again.

_Be a good lad now and climb onto the table._

Sephiroth was sane enough to realize the voice had been in his head alone, but it was still so vivid. His mind ran circles around that nightmare until he had almost hysterically convinced himself that it had been real and part of the present. He closed his eyes hard.

_That's in the past! He can't hurt you any more! You're stronger than him! _

"Sephiroth. I said get on the table."

Hojo was growing angry . . . never a good sign. Things always hurt more when the man was angry. More memories riled through Sephiroth's mind, converging with his current surroundings. His eyes were still closed. He knew he had to find something to anchor himself to reality before he slipped into a panic attack, or worse.

Reality . . . nothing had ever seemed more real to him than . . .

"Cloud . . . " He had whispered the name aloud.

"What was that?" Sephiroth was able to ignore the man this time, thinking only of the blond.

The feel of soft pliant lips against his own, moving with him in shy acceptance. The muscles of a lithe frame moving beneath his hands. The touch of feather-light spikes tickling pleasantly across his face. The blond's own fingers exploring cautiously along his sides. And that rare smile. Precious . . . so precious. The powerful urge to protect what was his, even from himself. Gentle.

Sephiroth wanted the blond there with him now, so he could wrap his arms around something tangible, but he could never be so selfish as the wish his love into Hojo's presence. Besides, the memories were enough. No one could forget even one small detail of something so special. He could even recall the blond's scent easily. His blond. His Cloud. Sephiroth didn't even stop to analyze the strong wave of possessiveness that washed over him, being accustomed to it now.

_He needs me . . . _He couldn't protect Cloud if he was cowering in a laboratory.

His eyes snapped open with determination, boring into the man that he would never stop hating. He didn't care about their blood relationship. The two of them looked nothing alike and Sephiroth had questioned that fact for years. But, his father or not, Hojo would die here today. The man had been a constant shadow looming over most of Sephiroth's life. He was supposed to be dead! What right did he have to suddenly disprove them, to live?

_I won't go back to living in fear of him. I have my own life now. I have a future, and it doesn't include that bastard. _

"Sephiroth, " Hojo's voice was really beginning to grate against his nerves, "if you cannot obey my orders than perhaps these guards can assist you." The scientist's hand motioned to the armed Turks surrounding them. The stocky man behind Hojo fidgeted a little.

Sephiroth smirked. Obviously the idiot still expected him to be as complacent now as he had been when he was younger, when he had been Cloud's age. That's why, when Sephiroth strode forwards with the air of an aggressor, the man startled, but held his ground, which Sephiroth thought curious indeed. Yes, Hojo had a lot to learn when it came to dealing with a twenty-eight year old Sephiroth rather than the teenager. The white-haired man would not be ordered around anymore!

"Sephiroth, don't make me . . . "

"Don't make you what, Hojo?" The words erupted from between his clenched teeth in a snarl. His fingers itched to be tightening around the scientist's throat instead of into their current fists. "Don't make you order them to fire? Is that all you can say?" He was seething now. "You won't have them kill me. I'm too . . . _invaluable_ to you." He spat in disgust. Then he added, "And if you think a few bullets will be enough to salvage your miserable hide, then you greatly underestimate me." It was a bluff without a doubt. Sephiroth knew he was just as human as the next man and did not cherish the idea of being mauled by a barrage of bullets . . . again. He hoped, however, that his mocking had been enough to prevent that from happening.

His words had rebuffed the man slightly, but Hojo recovered, jutting his hooked nose into the air in indignation. Sephiroth knew he had been shaken. Like a predator, he could practically smell Hojo's fear . . . or maybe that was just the stink of his unwashed hair. The white-haired man had to admit, Hojo could show a little feigned backbone when trying to look unafraid in the eyes of those foolish enough to believe him anything more than a craven.

The scientist's eerily dilated eyes lowered slightly, as if trying to display his own ability to lay a feasible threat. Sephiroth saw passed the feeble facade, however, and his smirk widened at the uncertainty he saw there.

"Sephiroth . . . You are correct in estimating your value to the scientific community, but you are incorrect in assuming that I would attempt to convince you without my own plan of action, which does not involve bullets.

He snorted, "Convince me? I don't know if you've gone senile over the years or not, but I don't recall you mentioning any negotiations that you might try to convince me of." Sephiroth set himself like stone. He would not be goaded into doing anything by this pathetic man, bullets or no.

Hojo's lips twitched at the off handed insult. "I recall ordering you to get on the table. There are a few tests I would like to conduct to delve just how much you've improved."

A quick jolt of panic washed over him, from the pinnacle of his spine to his toes, but Sephiroth had become an expert in concealing any discomposure he might feel. Therefore, this went unnoticed by the other occupants of the room. Inside his head, however, it most certainly had not been disregarded. He travailed to soothe his own fears once again as the nightmarish memories of Hojo's tests from long ago returned to the forefront of his mind at the man's mentioning, as if summoned like demons from the underworld.

He calmed himself in an instant this time with the knowledge that Hojo no longer had any control over him whatsoever. "Ordering? What happened to

convincing?" He retorted. The man acted unperturbed, fueling Sephiroth's already accelerated anger.

"Sephiroth . . . "

"Shut up, you worm, and listen to me!" His voice rang out loudly with his tempered confidence. "If you think you still have any control over me, then you are irritatingly mistaken." His lips curved into a smile as he decided to voice the thought that had been hovering inside his consciousness during the entirety of the conversation. "In fact, I would sooner decapitate you with my bare hands than comply with anything you think you might have the right to utter from that repugnant mouth of yours." He growled, growing restless. He had definitely not come all this way to contest in a worthless verbal spare with, in his highly shared opinion, the most loathsome being on the planet. The spirits from the lifestream had told him that Zack was here, and Cloud was with him. He would deal with Hojo, reunite himself with his friends and finish off Tseng.

_Then we can return to Midgar, Zack can see his girlfriend, and Cloud and I can sort out our feelings together. _Yes, he and the blond would definitely have a lot to discuss. Things like Cloud's future, and what he wanted to do with it once everything was behind him. And Cloud would need time to heal fully. Not to mention, Sephiroth was beginning to question whether he wanted to remain an employee of ShinRa, or not. Judging by what he had seen of the Turks, he was currently leaning towards the negative aspect of that decision, the new war be damned.

Hojo's response to Sephiroth's rebellion was almost instantaneous. He clenched his thin fists until the knuckles could scarcely be differentiated from bones and his thin colorless lips gave way to disgustingly demented sneer. When he spoke his voice had risen an octave and his fury was so tangible his body had begun to shake. "How dare you defy me!?" A string of spit spluttered from his mouth in his effort to further express his outrage in amplitudes higher than his lungs could bear.

Sephiroth's only counter was a smug smirk.

The white-haired man lifted his right eyebrow slightly as Hojo's livid face turned red and the large vein in his temple strained arrantly against its confines. Sephiroth idly wondered what the guards surrounding him would do if he managed to kill Hojo without once touching him but by making him have an aneurysm instead.

"I created you, Number One! If it were not for my aspirations than you would not even exist!"

_"That is not true."_ The sudden voice inside his head that did not belong to him sent Sephiroth blinking several times. _What?_ It had sounded familiar. _That sounded like . . . _Yes. The voice from his . . . out of body experience? It had been the wiser, stronger voice. The one that had tried to answer all of his questions. Sephiroth shook his head lightly. Benevolent or not, he did not think these new developments were healthy. Even so, he appreciated what masculine spirit had to say. After all, he seemed to know far more about the happenings of his life than Hojo.

Taking what the voice had said into consideration, he ignored what would normally have been a very cutting statement. Even the detriment of being referred to as a number rather than any true identity barely managed to irk him. He continued to listen to the mad scientist's angry words in aloof silence.

"I created you!" Hojo had stepped forwards some time during Sephiroth's lapse of full awareness and was now accenting each of his proclamations with a sharp jab of his pointy index finger into the white-haired man's naked chest. Sephiroth did not like this one bit.

"I made you strong!"

_Jab!_

"I made you intelligent!"

_Jab!_

"I made you superior!"

_Jab! _

"You!"

_Jab! _

"Belong!"

_Jab!_

"To ME!"

_Jab! JAB!!!_

Sephiroth may have been able to restrain himself during Hojo's previous verbal barbs. However, he had never been able to remain calm with someone's finger pointing aggressively at his face to make a point. Each time Hojo's invasive digit came into contact with his skin, it had been equivalent to a gallon of fuel being thrown onto a stoked fire. Sephiroth's anger flared and grew exponentially with every annoying prod. By the time Hojo's statement had been shouted fully and the fury of its meaning converged with the torrent already raging within his chest, Sephiroth was, indeed, seeing red. No one touched him like that! He belonged to no one!

He finally snapped in his rage and acted on the thought he had been entertaining ever since the scientist had set one foot into the room. With frightening speed he thrust out his left hand and growled ferally as his fingers alighted at last upon the thin throat of his defenseless prey, which emitted a choked scream. He didn't care about the circle of guards who had all simultaneously leaped backward and the clicks of their assault rifles. They would not kill him. Hojo had said as much himself. Besides, he'd already been shot once today and did not truly give a damn any longer if it happened again or not.

As long as he finally got the pleasure of squeezing the life out of the bastard.

Honestly though, his anger had been so palpable that he marveled at the fact that his unchecked strength hadn't snapped the rat's neck on impact. Sephiroth was by no means a sadistic human being. However, as the hands of the man who had tortured him to unconsciousness during his childhood scrabbled desperately at the corded muscles in his bare arm, he did receive a sickening sense of grim satisfaction, revenge of the sort that he most certainly would not regret later in the least.

Hojo's face had turned a dark red by now, but his eyes were still open and he was still resisting, albeight pathetically. He would not last much longer, not under Sephiroth's gradually tightening vice.

The white-haired man was not allowed his gratification however. From the corner of his peripheral vision, he detected a slow movement, moving in the patterns of attack preparation that he had grown so keen in detecting. His emerald eyes flashed away from Hojo's wilting form to glare daggers at anyone who would dare interrupt this moment.

Before he had time to react, a high whistle whirred from a gun barrel and through the small space between himself and the man that had followed Hojo into the lab. He felt a sharp sting as a tiny feathered dart penetrated his bicep with a light thump. Horror struck him at the realization of what had just occurred. The guards around him seemed nervous, and the man who had darted him was loading another round into his weapon.

_No . . . no no nooo . . . _

He should have payed more attention. His focus had all been centered on Hojo, not the guards that he had mistakenly thought harmless_. _The bastard had planned his tranquilization from the start! He should have known! He grew angry with himself for ruining his own chance of a lifetime. However, even through his frustration he still held the knowledge that it would take the drugs a while to set in on his enhanced body. His grip retightened from where it had gone slack in his minute distraction.

_. . . but I don't have time for this . . ._

He knew he was running out of time. He would be out soon, not doubting that Hojo had indeed accounted for his strength in choosing a drug to sedate him with. His bloodlust would have to be sated in a quicker manner. As long as Hojo was dead by the time he lost consciousness, he had nothing to fear, knowing he could easily escape anything the Turks could put him to without the scientist's knowledge of him. Then he would find Zack and Cloud.

_Zack . . . Please, keep him safe for me until I can do it for myself. _He felt inadequate, as if he had failed Cloud in his selfishness to avenge his own pain by staying in the labs long enough to finish off Hojo. He may have been able to escape if he had not been a stationary target.

_But this needs to be done before he can hurt someone else . . . _A wave a drowsiness washed over him. Yes, he would definitely need to do this quickly.

He removed his hand from the scientist's neck, but as soon as it was gone it had moved to the collar of his starkly ironed white shirt. He fisted the fabric and easily lifted the man into the air, letting him dangle inches above the white tiles.

_Looks like I'm going to snap your neck after all. _He raised his other arm in preparation to do so when another haze washed over him, causing him to unwillingly hesitate.

His minute pause had given the guards enough time to pick up on his intentions and he groaned mentally as he heard the clamor of several weapons being aimed at once. Luckily, the grunts had been given enough training to know not to blow him to smithereens with an unorganized barrage of bullets. Instead, only one shot was released deafeningly within the insulated walls. The guards all seemed to hold their breath. The newly wounded man's ears rang in the piercing silence that followed.

Sephiroth's only visible reaction as he had felt the lead enter his raised arm was an annoyed growl. The muscles spasmed as the projectile struck a nerve and he let the limb fall regrettably back to his side. This pain was nothing compared to what his failure to finish off Hojo in time would entail. He would be strapped to the table again, back in his own personal hell again. He closed his eyes hard against the emotions that came with those thoughts. When would he next see his best friend and the one he loved?

He had now begun to feel the full effect of the drugs, no longer having the strength or initiative to maintain his grip on the slumped scientist, who was still breathing, deplorably. He allowed the man to collapse unceremoniously and none too gently back to the floor, hoping vaguely that perhaps he would suffer some tragic mishap on the short journey. He could not possible get that lucky, though.

His vision swam and, seemingly in slow motion, he backed away from the fallen body, not wanting to lose what little control he had left and fall anywhere near the loathing thing. Reserving what dignity he had been spared, he elected to lower himself to the floor on his own accord rather than collapsing ungracefully. The white-haired man leaned himself against an adjacent wall. His last thought as his eyelids became heavy and slid shut, was that he would like to run his hands through Cloud's soft gold locks just once more before he was condemned to more pain and injections. His hand flexed slowly as he imagined the lingering sensation of the warm body cradled against his own.

Then, with a bittersweet smile, he lost himself to blackness.

***88888888***

Author Notes:

Don't kill me.

I know Sephiroth does not deserve this, but I had to do it. It was either this, or something much worse that my horrible mind concocted while I was planning this story for the first time . . . probably in the shower or lying awake on a sleepless night. I had to do it to spur on the greater scheme of things.

I gave a previously minor character a bigger role, as you can see. Well, originally I only needed him to open the huge door behind which Cloud and Zack were imprisoned. However, I have ended planning more for him than I had intended in the beginning. Rozz shines in Chapter Fourteen.

Tseng's insanity is getting worse. But, hey, at least now you all know that it isn't his fault, because Hojo just can't seem to stop being a bastard. Trust me, no matter who's fanfiction you're reading, Hojo isn't worth a sack of shit.

. . . I guess I have to credit him for being a nice antagonist, though.

Hmmm, I believe I have moved to yet another new house since my last posting. I think that makes three within the time I've been working on this fic. And, I finally have my internet back! WHOOO!!!

And here's some more good news for you. I had considered making Chapter Fourteen a Chapter Thirteen Part II . . . but I didn't. Yes, Thirteen and Fourteen were originally supposed to be one gigantic whopping monster of a chapter . . . but I think they are long enough separate. I gave Fourteen it's own name and everything! And it's plot is already written in cement and paraphrased. Heck, I've even already written some of it!


	14. UPDATE QUESTION

Sorry, this isn't, in fact, an update. Please don't stone me! . . . or have me drawn and quartered or what have you.

I have been on hiatus from fiction writing for several years, leaving this gem unfinished. The good news is I have been seriously considering re-writing and finishing the whole thing. A rewrite would be necessary because I re-read it not long ago and realized my writing has gotten so much better than it used to be and I can't bring myself to finish this out without fixing some things first. Making the characters more realistic and such.

My question for you is, are there still enough readers interested in this fic to warrant me taking the time to do so? I would be starting all over, at chapter 1, and eventually catching up with myself and finishing . . . eventually. What say you guys?

-Loves_martyr


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